


The Miraculous House of Agreste

by MaybeMayura



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional torment, Family Fluff, Hawkyura, Implied Sexual Content, LadyNoir - Freeform, MamaNath, Minor Alcohol, Minor Violence, Minor blood warning, Pain, Plagg is a Little Shit (Miraculous Ladybug), Romantic Tension, Sass, Sexual Tension, adrienette - Freeform, gabenath, oh yeah some strong language, whooo boy here we gooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:56:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24795787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeMayura/pseuds/MaybeMayura
Summary: FINISHED WORK exploring the relationships between the occupants of the Agreste household. 50k total words.Nathalie is struggling to present normalcy while dealing with the effects of the peacock miraculous and fighting feelings she doesn't want to have. Adrien can't help but notice and worry, reminded of his mother, and finds solace in his friendship with Marinette...which seems to be turning into something more. Gabriel is figuring out some feelings of his own, but the signs that something is terribly wrong are hovering on the horizon...What happens when Nathalie is forced to choose between the man she maybe loves and the child she practically raised? Will Gabriel give up being Hawk Moth or lose his mind in the process? And will Marinette manage to figure out everyone's identities before it all goes up in flames?Gabenath! Adrienette! MamaNath! Gabriel and Adrien not knowing what to do with one another! Buckle up my dear friends, it’s going to be a wild ride.Set fluidly somewhere before the events of Season 3 finale could happen.Link to cover art: https://maybemayura.tumblr.com/post/621028061718151168/get-hype-we-got-sum-art-basically-i
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Nathalie Sancoeur
Comments: 36
Kudos: 88





	1. Dreams and Hopes

_In the dream, the zing of a yo-yo string met her ears as two figures, one red and one black, leapt across the rooftops of Paris with her in pursuit. She had the feeling she needed something important from them, yet they were always frustratingly out of reach. She jumped from a storefront sign to another building and pushed off to make the leap that would carry her across the street._

_But something was wrong. She wasn’t going to make it. Alarm screamed in her head and pain in her body as she stretched for the roof’s edge and missed it by a mile. She began to fall._

_The moment before she hit the pavement, the dream changed. Images one after another, some muddled, some she recognized. A dark chapel. A snowy mountain range. A laughing little blonde boy, calling her name. The white fluttering of hundreds of butterflies. The looming face of Gabriel Agreste, very close, features knitted in worry: “I warned you, using a broken miraculous ends up breaking its wearer! The wounds on the miraculous are becoming_ your _wounds.”_

_Then the sparkling green eyes of a smiling light-haired woman. She could feel the pressure of her arms as she hugged her and proclaimed, “we couldn’t have done this without you.”_

_For a moment, the woman was real and warm and_ there _. Then her body dissolved into mist, leaving her grasping at nothing but a wisp of smoke._

* * *

Nathalie gasped and sat straight up in bed. _It’s not real._ She clutched at her chest, trying to quiet the lingering uneasiness that remains after a disturbing dream. Look, the sun was just rising outside the apartment window, and it was time to get ready for work. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she felt a familiar dull pain quicken in response to her body’s movement. She took a few conscious breaths—she never did feel like she had enough air lately—and steeled herself as she stood and walked the short distance to the kitchen for her morning coffee.

It wasn’t a large apartment, and it wasn’t a large coffee pot, since she lived alone. She leaned against the counter in her pajamas with the mug in her hands, the tile cold on her bare feet, waiting for the beverage to cool slightly before taking a sip.

 _I should have never used the miraculous,_ she thought. She turned to pick up a bottle of painkillers sitting on the counter, opened the bottle and poured out two. _Even if it has brought me closer to Gabriel…._

She shook her head, pushing it from her mind. It had been nearly a year since Emilie had disappeared. Thinking these things were an insult to her memory. Lost in thought, she drank her mug halfway down and padded to her closet to select the day’s attire.

Gabriel didn’t design looks for his staff; not that she would consent to wear one, anyway. He merely insisted on tasteful professional dress and Nathalie guessed she knew enough about what colors did not go together to avoid being an eyesore. At the very least, he had never outright objected to anything she wore: black blazers and slacks with a selection of colored turtlenecks. A swipe of eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow, and a sensible heel.

She admired him, she figured. She always had. He had a successful brand and an intelligent mind always whirring with new ideas. He was the picture of the efficacious designer. And perhaps he was handsome, too, with his high cheekbones and deep grey-blue eyes….

 _No._ She stopped her mind in its tracks for the second time. He was married, and her _boss_ for that matter. She took a breath and suppressed the tickle of a cough rising in her throat as she stepped into the bathroom for a quick touch of makeup.

She did her routine, so simple she could practically do it without a mirror save the eyeliner, which she felt she had never been great at. Pain spiked her chest again. That was the consequence for using a broken miraculous: once contact is made, it eats away at your life’s energy to frantically try and repair itself. It felt as if her bones and organs were slowly being broken piece by piece, a worsening pain gradually spreading over her entire body over the period of a few weeks. Or at least that’s what she imagined when she looked at the shattered peacock brooch. She wondered if it had been the same for Emilie.

Her thoughts drifted back to the images of her dream _. I miss her. I see her in Adrien every day…_. Adrien. Such a well-meaning and intelligent child. _His_ son. She knew he had noticed something off about her. The upturned eyebrows and green eyes hold so much concern every time he sees her stifling a cough. She could never replace his mother, but she hoped to be able to provide him with at least a shred of comfort when having to deal with his father’s moods and unbridgeable distance. If only she could allow herself to drop the mask of professionalism more often, but it would likely be unwise under the gaze of her boss.

Adrien was up to something. Something _miraculous_ ; she could feel it. Perhaps having personal experience as a miraculous user, or because of knowing why Gabriel was so often absent did she see the same behaviors in his son.

Perhaps it was because of a moment burned into her brain a few weeks prior, as Chat Noir had pulled her out of range of flying street debris when she was caught as a civilian in the middle of an akuma battle. The green eyes that had met hers just for a moment, the flick of messy blonde hair, the quickly flashed smile to her “thank you” from the masked fighter as he jumped back into combat…it all felt startlingly familiar. She had watched Adrien so closely growing up that she felt she would recognize him anywhere, in any outfit. Even better than his own father.

The feeling of guilt dropped into her stomach as she left the bathroom. She would do anything for Gabriel and would protect Adrien with her life. She was utterly devoted to the Agreste family. If she ever had to choose between them….

It was only seven a.m, and she was already so tired. _This job is killing you,_ her mother would say. If only she knew how right that statement was.

Transferring her coffee to a to-go cup, grabbing her purse and donning her coat, she locked the apartment and resolutely set out on the few blocks walk to the nearest metro station, the blustery morning chill of early spring hovering in the streets of Paris.

* * *

A few hours later, Adrien was sitting in class, but his mind was somewhere else. He and his lady had fought an akuma the night before that put them out until the wee hours, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay awake and focused. He tried to stifle a yawn, staring at his desk while Ms. Bustier cheerily intoned something about partners for an upcoming project. He had already skimmed the prompt, and it lay open in front of him.

He wondered if this is what his father felt like all the time. Tired. As far as Adrien could tell, the life of a designer meant you had no real sleep schedule; he had spied his father out in the garden late at night sometimes when he returned from being Chat, while other times caught him nodding off in a chair when he assumed Adrien wasn’t around. If Adrien ever mentioned this he would surely deny it. The inscrutable mask would never show cracks with his son. But his father hadn’t always been such a raging workaholic.

Thoughts of his father reminded him of Nathalie, his actual primary caretaker after his mother’s disappearance and his father’s assistant. Although she herself was notoriously hard to read, she had more moments of letting down her guard than his father and had historically done more of the caring.

 _Now_ there’s _something my father is definitely hiding,_ Adrien thought. What was happening to Nathalie?

He must have been frowning or too lost in his own head, because his best friend Nino waved a hand across his field of vision.

“Yo, earth to Adrien! The school bell just rang, dude!” Adrien started and realized most everyone was filing out of the classroom.

“Oh! Thanks, I was totally out there.”

A female voice chimed in. “Yeah, what’s got you so distracted?” It was Alya, Nino’s girlfriend and best friend of Marinette. The two girls sat behind him and Nino. Alya, being a journalist, was as perceptive as they get, so he wasn’t surprised at her curiosity. Marinette hung off at her best friend’s side, the faintest tinge of color brightening her cheeks.

Adrien laughed apologetically and rubbed a hand through his hair. “Oh, you know…. Just…thinking about this project, right?” He stooped to pick up his schoolbag.

“It’s pick your own partners, right?” Alya said. “Nino, do you want to be mine?”

Nino stuttered out something about “I’ll always be yours,” with the awkwardness of a teenager in love being put on the spot. Adrien stood up and gathered his stuff, his eyes catching Marinette’s, and they both laughed. Marinette’s cheeks grew pinker. He felt a hand on his arm.

“Have you decided who you want to work with yet?” Alya asked. He shook his head no. “Ooh, wait, you should work with Marinette! We all know she’s the best designer in the class, and that should come in handy for this one!” Alya turned to her friend and winked, escaping Adrien’s notice. The girl’s face was quickly approaching a scarlet hue.

“Uh, sure, Adrien! I mean, only if you want to work…with me. Hahaha.” He smiled at her.

“Sounds like a great idea. Do you want to come over after school to plan? I can tell Nathalie it’s for a school project.”

“Um, sure! I can’t think of a butter…BETTER idea.” She said.

“Great! You can ride with us if you’d like,” he replied.

“Okay, I’ll meet you outside in a minute, I have to gab…grab something from my locker.” She rushed out of the classroom, nearly colliding with Alya and Nino, who were deeply involved in strategizing. Alya laughed at her friend’s rapidly receding form and whispered something in Nino’s ear.

Adrien chuckled to himself. Marinette was the funniest person he knew, and he wished she’d never change.

* * *

Adrien and a seemingly less-flushed Marinette arrived back at the Agreste mansion via the chauffeur, expecting resistance, but Nathalie just waved them in.

“Your father would not like to be disturbed, as usual, but if it’s for school it can be permitted.” She stood with her usual straight-backed posture, tablet in hand as they entered, but Adrien had the niggling feeling something was off. He smiled at her.

“Thanks, Nathalie.” She simply nodded, turning to exit the foyer in the direction of her work desk.

Adrien and Marinette ascended the stairs towards his bedroom, discussing how best to approach their assignment.

“So the rubric says we need to design something that will protect an egg being dropped from a height of three meters minimum onto the school courtyard floor. And it can’t be more than a square foot in any dimension,” Marinette said. She held the paper in both hands, close to her face, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. She almost missed the top stair and Adrien grabbed her arm to keep her from going flying.

“Waah! Oh, thanks.” The flush was coming back.

“No problem,” Adrien said, opening the door and holding it for her, inclining his head in the tiniest of theatrical bows. “After you, mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng.” She giggled and looked at him square in the face for the slightest moment, a rare occurrence, before shyly returning her focus to the rubric.

They both took a seat on the bed. Marinette opened her schoolbag and rifled through it for a moment before exclaiming in disappointment.

“Aw, no! I left my sketchbook on my desk at home. Bummer. Do you have any paper we could use?” Adrien looked thoughtful.

“All my notebooks are lined, and I’m sure that’s no good. I don’t want to bother Nathalie; she hasn’t been well lately…. Wait, I know.” He opened a drawer near his desk containing a printer and removed a sheaf of plain paper from it. “Will this do?”

“Yeah you’re—that’s perfect.” She took it from his hand, looking concerned. “What’s wrong with Nathalie? She seemed fine when we got here.” Adrien sat back down on the bed and slumped slightly, pursing his lips and not looking at her.

“Well…she’s been getting dizzy spells. Like my mom used to. And my father refuses to tell me what’s wrong. But I might be just overthinking it; I’ve only seen it happen once.” Marinette sucked in a breath to fortify herself and put a comforting hand on his knee. _Adrien’s knee,_ she thought dreamily _._ He looked up in surprise, and then smiled.

“I’m sure she’ll be okay,” she said.

The two sketched and bounced ideas off one another for a solid twenty minutes. Adrien was impressed by Marinette’s ability to come up with an idea and explain it with just a few strokes of a pencil. He felt his drawings clumsy and inelegant in comparison. Marinette looked over the papers strewn across the bed and tapped her pencil eraser to her lips.

“Okay, so far for ideas we have a parachute, a cushioned box, many layers of plastic grocery bags and cotton balls, and a bag full of water that you can put the egg in.”

“What if we tried adding springs to a box? To absorb the force, like shocks on a car?” Adrien attempted to quickly draw what he was imagining but wasn’t sure it came out the way he wanted. He found the irony of it amusing. A designer’s son who couldn’t draw.

“Why not? We could always test more than one prototype.” Marinette made a list on a fresh sheet of paper. She paused and looked around the room. “Got any spare cardboard boxes?”

“Probably not in here. Not sure where our recycling goes, but we could go look.” He stood and Marinette followed. They descended to the foyer and headed to the dining room. Marinette really didn’t want to go wandering off alone in case she ran into the reclusive master of the house. Based on things Adrien hinted at and her own limited experiences, she was kind of afraid of him. Plus, he was her favorite designer and she didn’t want him to think she was like, robbing his house or something.

Upon finding no boxes—the room was too clean—they crossed the foyer to Mr. Agreste’s atelier. Adrien cracked the door to confirm he was not in residence before opening it further and ushering Marinette in. Her jaw dropped at the designs on the walls and the massive tablet-computer in the center of the room. _This must be what it’s like to be a real designer,_ she thought.

“Huh, that’s funny, Nathalie isn’t here either,” Adrien mused from nearby. Marinette turned to where he was looking towards her desk in the corner. A cold plate of barely eaten lunch sat next to her computer, which was on its screensaver mode. Nobody had been around for a while.

“Perhaps we should go look for her? And then we can ask her if she knows where to find a box. For rotopryting— _prototyping_ ,” Marinette suggested.

“Sure,” Adrien replied. He didn’t look back at her, focused on finding the typically ever-present assistant. She smacked her forehead and sighed. As giddy as she was to be Adrien’s project partner, it was going to be a _disaster_ if she couldn’t get a hold on herself.

 _Curse you, Alya,_ she smiled, running after him.

* * *

Nathalie was in the bathroom, staring at the contents of her stomach in a toilet bowl.

The contents themselves weren’t that nasty. It wasn’t like she had ingested much that day: tea cookies, a few bites of lunch (leftover pasta) and the coffee from that morning, which seemed like ages ago. It was the blood that was the problem.

Her stomach heaved again and she felt bile rise in her throat. What was wrong with her? Was this because of the miraculous? If so, it was definitely getting worse. She had taken some training as an EMT in her college years when she was considering going to med school—before she had met _that man_ —but she couldn’t remember everything ‘blood in vomit’ was a symptom for. Where was her brain? She forced herself to swallow and winced.

She eyed the toilet bowl critically. It wasn’t dark like coffee grounds, which is what they taught you to look for; it was redder. Fresh. So it probably wasn’t as dangerous. She coughed into her hand and flecks of red appeared on it. She had probably been coughing too hard lately, she guessed. Need to stop doing that.

She went to stand and a wave of nausea brought the bile back up, quickly forcing her to the floor again. She pushed her bangs back from her face with her un-bloodied hand and vomited straight acid into the shiny white bowl. Her throat burned unpleasantly.

 _Ugh._ Perhaps being an administrative assistant was normally less disgusting than being an EMT…but of course, now she was in _this_ situation.

A knock on the door and a concerned “Nathalie? Are you in there?” made her whip her head back up. A poor decision, as the room spun like a carousel.

 _Shit._ Adrien. She had forgotten all about Marinette being over. She mustered all the normalcy she had in her and responded, “I’ll be right out!” in what she hoped was a convincing enough display of ordinary speech.

Ignoring a worsening dizziness and the beginning of a sharp dehydration headache, she pulled herself up to the bathroom sink and washed her hands, quickly smoothing her hair and splashing her face with water. Thank god for waterproof eyeliners. Putting her glasses back on and taking a breath, she set her face in her usual professional mask and opened the door. Two young faces stared up at her.

“What do you need, Adrien? Miss Dupain-Cheng,” she asked levelly. Adrien’s eyebrows were doing that adorable thing they did when he was worried.

“We just…needed a box. For our project.”

Marinette earnestly nodded her agreement. Adrien continued. “Do you know where to find one?” Nathalie nodded. A tickle of a cough rose in her chest. _Not now._ She swallowed, but her throat was dry.

“Kitchen; there’s a recycling bin in the back. Excuse me, I need to—” She slammed the door on their surprised faces and coughed violently into her sleeve, making it a few steps before falling to her knees in front of the toilet again. Her heaving body retched, but nothing came up but a little bit of blood mingled with saliva, which she spat weakly into the porcelain vessel. The door burst open. She hadn’t locked it after she slammed it shut, which was turning into a big mistake.

_Shittt.. I_ reaallly _can’t do this right now,_ she thought, and buried her face in her hand.

* * *

“Nathalie?!” Adrien cried and rushed towards her. Marinette followed a few steps behind and was alarmed to find the assistant sitting slumped on the white tile floor, breathless, blood speckling her jacket sleeve and the toilet, face turned away from them. Her glasses were on the ground beside her as if they had been flung from her face.

The materials search was instantly forgotten. “I’ll call 112!” She exclaimed, reaching for her phone. _Dang it, no service._ She stepped back outside the bathroom and the green bars shot up enough to make the call.

“Nathalie, what happened??” Adrien gently shook the groggy assistant’s arm. “Nothing…it’s fine. Please don’t,” she said, her face contorting in pain as she swallowed. She quickly turned her head away from him to cough twice and he saw more blood appear.

“No, you’re clearly not okay, don’t worry, Marinette’s calling for an ambulance,” he rambled, clearly worried.

“Don’t! Please,” she said, looking back to him. _You’re going to get all of us in trouble._ He looked confused.

“Okay…If you’re worried, I’ll just ask them to not put their lights and sirens on,” he nodded supportively. “Marinette?” He called.

“Yeah?”

He leaned out the door and relayed the information. Nathalie hung her head. He meant well, but how could she articulate to him that going to a hospital was not going to help her? This child. Gabriel was _not_ going to be happy if an ambulance showed up in front of the Agreste residence. It would garner too much public attention.

Adrien was at her side again. “They’re coming,” he said with what was meant to be a reassuring smile. Marinette reentered, stowing her phone back in her pocket and helped him help her up. She stopped trying to protest; the deed was done. But she would _not_ be getting wheeled out on a stretcher like an invalid. With one arm on Adrien, she figured she could manage just fine.

Thinking quickly, Marinette ran back and grabbed Nathalie’s glasses off the floor and a dark-colored hand towel from the sink and rushed to catch up. Someone who was appearing to struggle with staying upright did not need the added encumbrance of not being able to see straight.

She handed Nathalie the towel just in time. The woman clutched it and turned away from Adrien to cough into it, her body straining. She groaned. Marinette rushed to her other arm and between her and Adrien managed to get her to the foyer and out the front door. An ambulance with its lights on, but no siren was waiting just outside the gate, another obstacle. Adrien had a thought.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back,” he said and sprinted to where the Gorilla’s car was parked several meters away in the courtyard. Luckily, it was unlocked, and he found the button he had seen the bodyguard use dozens of times and pressed it, causing the gates to open. Three medical personnel rushed to Nathalie and Marinette. Nathalie brushed off their insistence on a gurney, holding her chin as high as she could as they helped her into the vehicle. Adrien ran after them and was told that as witnesses, the two of them should come along.

The ride to the hospital was a blur, and upon arrival Nathalie was seen immediately. Marinette and Adrien sat in the waiting area for what felt like forever. Marinette squinted up at the soulless fluorescent lighting and wondered if the plastic chairs were intentionally designed to be uncomfortable.

Adrien had tried calling his father twice before giving up, as each time it went to voicemail. It wasn’t exactly unexpected, but he was frustrated. He _needed_ him right now, and he wasn’t answering.

Marinette glanced to her friend, his head in his hands and elbows resting on his knees, and realized she still had Nathalie’s glasses in her other hand. Adrien glanced down at them, and then up at her, then back down at the floor. “She didn’t tell me it was this bad. Whatever it is,” he said quietly. Though, he felt like he had watched this happening before.

Marinette patted his shoulder without even hesitating. “I’m sure the doctors will know what to do.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the door to the emergency department banged open and none other than Gabriel Agreste strode into the room. Adrien gasped and sat up. Had he gotten the voicemails…? Gabriel gave the tiniest glance in their direction before turning to the check-in desk.

“I’m here for my assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur,” he said evenly. Adrien deduced this was a front. The thin line of his father’s lips was even thinner than normal. The desk secretary asked him a few verifying questions before she told him the room and pointed which direction. Gabriel wasted no time, his shoes thudding rapidly away on the impersonal white tile.

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other at the same time, with the same thought. They both got up and followed Gabriel sneakily down the hall. He turned into a room and the two of them peered through the crack in the doorway. 

Nathalie was reclined in a hospital bed, looking better than she had been when they’d left the house. A few medical professionals were busily carrying out tasks around the small space. Gabriel was squatting next to her bed, holding a murmured conversation they couldn’t hear. Marinette leaned farther in an attempt to discern what was being said over the bustling noises and light chatter of the nurses, but her shoes slid on the tile and she stifled a cry as she fell to the floor.

“Marinette!” Adrien said a little too loudly, and grabbed her hand, breaking her fall. Gabriel’s head snapped up just in time to see two figures flash out of sight behind the door. He stood and stalked to the entrance and pushed it open, perhaps harder than necessary, to a pair of guilty faces.

“Adrien,” he said tersely. His body was tighter than a bowstring and his lips were pressed together so hard they were nonexistent. Adrien gulped. “Come with me.” He put a hand on his son’s shoulder. Marinette tried to follow.

“Not you, Miss Dupain.”

“-Cheng. Dupain-Cheng.” Gabriel’s eyes flashed, in annoyance or anger she didn’t know. Marinette shrank in awkward panic. “Oh, well um…I have Nathalie’s glasses, and I uh, just wanted to return them to her—” She scratched her head and offered them to him with a sheepish smile. He took them sharply from her hand without a word and ushered his son inside. Adrien glanced back at Marinette, who gave him a secret thumbs up to say _it’s okay. Don’t worry about me._ She was actually more worried for him.

“Out. Everybody out,” Gabriel said loudly. The doctors looked up in surprise and perhaps some intimidation. This was Gabriel Agreste, the famous designer, whom not many people saw, ever. Nobody really knew what to do, and they silently left, as the necessary work had been mostly finished. Marinette flattened herself against the wall as they exited and if any of them saw her, they didn’t let on. As soon as they were out of sight, she pressed her ear to the door.

“Adrien, why didn’t you call Doctor Durand??” Without the witnesses of Marinette and the others he felt he didn’t need to restrain himself anymore, and his anger was quickly growing.

“Father, I—”

“He did what he thought was best.” Nathalie’s face was hard and she was sitting up. The action made her dizzy but having been given some intravenous fluids to combat dehydration and god knows what else, it was basically manageable compared to earlier. Adrien gaped and then shut his mouth. Gabriel turned to her. She held his gaze for a full three seconds of agonizing tension before another bout of coughing forced her to look away.

“ _You_ know better too, Nathalie Sancoeur,” he said in a low voice when she stopped. Nathalie cringed and sucked in a breath. Pain. And she hated when he used her full name in that tone, like a child. She hated her last name too. She tried to give him a withering look, because he _knew_ not to do that, but it had no venom. He gently pushed her shoulder so she would lie back again and she didn’t have it in her to resist. Gabriel turned back to his son, who was staring at the rumpled sheets intently as if attempting to telekinetically smooth them.

“You should have called Doctor Durand. You _KNOW_ this! What is all of Paris going to think, when Gabriel Agreste’s assistant just shows up at the local hospital…” Adrien’s eyes welled up as he looked up into his father’s face, and his father saw. “Go!” He pointed to the door. “Just…go.” Adrien made quickly for the exit and pushed open the door, crashing straight into the eavesdropping Marinette.

“I’m so sorry! He cried. “I didn’t know you were—” Marinette cut him off by crushing him in a hug. He took a second to react and hugged her back.

“That was a cruel thing of him to do.” Marinette said, her voice low, when they broke apart. Adrien wiped his eyes and looked into her face, which was taut with anger. It shocked him to see her like this, the total opposite of her normal positive, goofy self. She put her hands on his upper arms. “What’s it about his reputation that’s more important than his assistant’s life? And then taking it out on his own son?! You were only trying to help. What kind of parent can’t understand….” She looked away. Adrien gave a sad smile.

“I mean, I’m sort of…used to it. A little. But it’s hardest if he yells.”

Marinette practically growled, hands clenched in fists, and looked back into his face. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.” She said intensely. He nodded, a lump in his throat, and attempted to clear it.

“Marinette…you’re kind of scaring me,” he said sheepishly. She looked surprised for a moment before laughing a little. Her? Intimidating? That was a first.

“Sorry. But I mean it.”

Adrien hugged her again. “You really are like an everyday Ladybug,” he said into her ear.

Fortunately for Marinette, he couldn’t see the spots of color bloom on her cheeks.

* * *

Inside the hospital room, Gabriel’s anger was subsiding. He stood facing the corner of the room, head bowed, and hands clasped behind his back, only turning when Nathalie began coughing again. At least there wasn’t any blood. He couldn’t _stand_ blood, and the sterile hospital smell reminded him of bad memories.

He stepped towards her and knelt by her bed again, laying a hand on her arm. Nathalie’s skin tingled. They had removed her blazer for her and hung it on the side of the bed, but she was still wearing her crimson turtleneck. Her left sleeve had been pushed up to allow for an IV in her other forearm. He tried not to look at it.

Gabriel inclined his head. “I didn’t know it had progressed this far. There’s so much on the line…. My apologies, Nathalie.” He glanced up at her. Her mouth was set in her typical professionalism, but he could still see pain in the slight furrowing of her brow. “For yelling. And everything that lead to this point.” She sucked in a breath.

“I don’t care. I want to help you…until the very end,” she said, and gave a small smile. Gabriel blinked.

“You don’t need a miraculous to help me.”

* * *

Marinette and Adrien had the Gorilla drive them to their separate residences, and a few hours later, Gabriel and Nathalie followed. They had been given a warning by the doctors that that it was likely pneumonia and been pleaded with not to leave so early because a prescription was needed, although both adults knew that was not the case.

After ensuring Nathalie was resting comfortably in the sitting room, he ascended the stairs to his private bedroom. Heading to a cabinet in the corner, he pulled out a glass and a bottle of Scotch—reserved for design frustrations and stressful happenings such as this—and poured himself a measure. Leaning against the cabinet he drank and reflected.

He needed Mayura to enact his plans, he was certain. But how much time did Nathalie have? How many more uses of the miraculous? And was he willing to sacrifice her for this?

He took another swallow of scotch.

No. He couldn’t watch another person go through…that again. Especially given her loyalty to him…and his son. He had never before seen her stand up for Adrien in that way, and for some reason he felt unsettled because of it. Perhaps it was regret for yelling at his son? Doing that had never left him with a particularly good taste in his mouth, but that’s how one disciplines their child, right? Emilie would know. He always felt she was a better parent than him.

Emilie. His wife. His wife who _needed_ him. He needed her back; she would know what to do to make Adrien happy. She was _wonderful_ at that. She could light up an entire room just by walking in, and it was like a candle blew out when she left.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and put the glass down. Like somebody had flipped a switch, the previous thoughts were forgotten. He was going to do whatever it took to bring his wife back so his son would be happy, and his family whole again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks so much for struggling through chapter 1! 
> 
> Just some things I thought I might mention now that we're a chapter in.  
> I like to consider the original characterizations, so I did a lot of research/watching and re-watching Miraculous episodes to better write how they would react to situations. So while they might be subject to my interpretation (aka Nathalie's sassy internal thoughts because come on, there's no WAY she just deals with the nonsense Gabriel throws at her) they're based in reality.  
> So unfortunately if you're looking for a fic where Gabriel and Nathalie easily and sappily confess their undying love (although there is a place for those!) this is not it. Slow burn, friends, slow burn. And I've got material enough for a sequel, so we'll see about that. 
> 
> Also, Ye Olde disclaimer that I don't own the characters. 
> 
> And if you'd like some fic-related art: shameless plug for my tumblr at @maybemayura, where I put the random miraculous stuffs I create. 
> 
> Constructive comments are always welcome (it's my first finished fic!)


	2. Little Cookies, Little Promises

Chat Noir was never happier than when he was with his lady, even though most of their “together time” was spent getting slammed into walls and thrown off the Eiffel Tower by Hawk Moth’s akumatized underlings. The problem was, she was just so _amazing_ when she was doing her Ladybug thing. How was he not supposed to fall in love with her?

It crossed his mind how especially beautiful she was this early Sunday afternoon as she punched the latest supervillain in the face. It was a re-akumatization of Mr. D’Argencourt into Darkblade after his fencing program was threatened with defunding. But this time he had help: a sentimonster in the form of a monstrous battle horse that emanated dark smoke, complete with saddle and armor.

“Chat! Cover me, and ready your cataclysm!” Ladybug’s voice startled him from his thoughts. She was advancing on Darkblade and his mount with a lucky charm that appeared to be an air horn.

“You got it, Milady! _Cataclysm!”_ He shouted. He leapt into place just in time to parry a blow from the villain’s sword with his staff.

“Cover your ears!” Ladybug warned and let off her air horn. The horse spooked.

“Whoa! WHOA, my dark steed!” Darkblade’s voice echoed from within his helmet. Dodging the horse’s rearing hooves, Ladybug set off another blast, and the horse threw its rider and galloped down the street, trailing black smoke from its mane and tail. Ladybug used her yo-yo to grapple the sword from the supervillain’s hand and launched it in Chat Noir’s direction.

“Heads up!” She said, and he grinned as he caught it, causing it to crumble to dust. A black butterfly emerged from the remains of the item, only to be snatched from the air by the yo-yo and promptly purified. Ladybug released it into the Paris sky and turned to the bewildered Mr. D’Argencourt, who was now sitting on the ground, to make sure he was okay.

Chat Noir was keeping a lookout for the rogue sentimonster when a blur of indigo caught his eye.

Mayura.

“We’d better get that horse, Milady. Someone here is trying to _stirrup_ trouble.” Ladybug stood and followed his gaze, squinting.

“I don’t see—” A deafening _neigh_ cut her off, and they both whipped around. The sentimonster was back, and it was not happy. It charged.

Chat gulped. “Better hoof it!” He extended his staff and he and ladybug vaulted to the rooftops. Her lips twitched at the pun, but whether it was amusement or annoyance he did not know. He chose to believe the former.

“If your hunch is correct, Mayura must be close,” Ladybug concluded as they paused to scan the area. They were pretty sure the horse couldn’t reach them from there. In fact, it had gone strangely quiet after they escaped its range and was now nowhere to be seen. Chat took the opportunity of a lull to recline against the building’s chimney, staff balanced across his shoulders.

“Well she better get off her high horse before—” Ladybug put a finger to his lips.

“Thanks, Kitty, but _not now.”_ He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, internally tickled at the fact that a corner of her mouth was twitching, betraying the tiniest of smiles.

A shadow blocked out the sun. She looked up in confusion and her eyes bugged. Following her gaze, he saw the horse perched on the chimney above him…with two new giant feathery appendages. He and ladybug screamed in unison and took off running, and the horse bellowed back before leaping off in pursuit.

“Since when did it have _wings?!”_ Chat yelled over the noise of clattering hooves and their own pounding feet on the roof tile. He promptly sneezed. Darn feather allergy.

“Mayura must have upgraded it? I didn’t know she could _DO_ that!” Ladybug shouted back. The horse crashed down in front of them and two of them skidded to a stop and made a quick about-face. _Dang, those wings were_ useful!

“Chat, you go left and I’ll go right!” Ladybug’s voice and the _zing_ of the yo-yo came somewhere from the other side of the tidal wave of feathers and billowing smoke the horse constantly emanated. Chat’s nose tickled. He tried for a solid hit with his staff, but a wing knocked it flying from his grasp.

“Ohhh _no_ you don’t!” He leapt after it, catching it by his fingertips just before it hit the edge of the roof and tumbled off. As he veered back around to rejoin the fight, a dark blue form in the shadow of a chimney across the street caught his attention. Ladybug’s air horn sounded again, but it didn’t seem to have as much effect as before. The horse shrieked back in her face equally loudly, blowing her bangs back.

“Peacock alert!” Chat called. He took two running steps and leapt onto the horse’s back, bonking it hard on the head with his staff to draw its attention away from her. “Next roof over!” Ladybug took advantage of the beast’s preoccupation with attempting to throw its sudden passenger to find the supervillian. She narrowed her eyes.

“She looks _exhausted_ ,” she muttered, noticing the figure’s slumped posture and hanging head. But she didn’t have time to do anything about it, as the strength of Chat Noir’s thighs was not enough to hold onto the angry winged steed and he was launched a considerable distance, hollering the whole way.

Ladybug was distracted from following his impressive trajectory when the horse reared again, shaking its head and beating its wings, and she was afforded a new view of its bridle.

_That’s funny. It’s a different color than the rest of the thing…That must be where the amok is hiding!_ She wound up her arm and released her yo-yo with a triumphant _“Ha!”_ as the horse descended. It struck one of the metal rings that attached the reins and cracked it. A dark blue feather was released, and she wasted no time in purifying it. The horse let out a final echoing whinny as it disintegrated, and a pair of fencing medals hung on a ribbon clattered to the roof deck.

“Miraculous _Ladybug!_ ” She flung her red-and-black-spotted air horn into the sky, then noticed her partner was missing. “Chat Noir! Chat? Where’d you go?”

Chat Noir had taken the opportunity of being displaced from the main fight to seek out another one at a secondary location. He nimbly scaled the building Mayura was hiding on and launched himself in her direction, yelling, staff overhead and ready to strike.

If she was surprised, she didn’t show it, and smoothly evaded him. Whipping out her fan, she went for him. They exchanged blows, in which he found himself barely able to dodge the graceful swiftness of her attacks. Adult miraculous wearers were certainly powerful, he thought to himself.

A lucky opening let him land a good kick to the chest, throwing her back against the chimney. She groaned as her body collided with the brick. That did _not_ feel good. She rolled to one side to avoid his staff and jumped to her feet…but the roof didn’t seem to be where she thought it was. Things were starting to spin. She threw out an arm and managed to turn the fall into a shoulder roll, coming up and around to find Chat’s staff under her chin and her heels on the roof gutter. There was nowhere to go. They were several stories up, and at her back lay empty space. His triumphant green gaze met hers, and she tried to make her eyes as fierce as possible to hide her rising dizziness. She hoped Hawk Moth was aware of what was going on. _But no matter, I can handle myself._

“No way out now, ya beastly bird,” he said. But before he could continue, probably to demand she hand over her miraculous, she lost partial consciousness and pitched backwards off the roof. Chat gave a strangled “wut” of surprise as his adversary disappeared from view and hurriedly followed suit, jumping down into the alley below. She felt him grab her arm and the _yank_ of a sharp deceleration before they hit the ground. Once again, decidedly not comfortable on her complaining body, and her shoulder socket screamed in protest. But it should have been a lot worse. He must have used his telescoping staff to slow their fall. Having slightly regained muscular control, she yanked her arm away as hard as she could and rolled onto her hands and knees. Her chest heaved with a spasm of coughing.

Chat stood bewildered. This was absolutely peculiar. When had this sort of weakness ever happened to a miraculous holder? But seeing her on the ground, it felt so familiar….

His eyes widened. Mayura recovered slightly and looked up at him over her shoulder. She saw a realization in his face she _certainly_ did not like.

The zing of a yo-yo string sounded, and Ladybug dropped into the alley. She was surprised to find Mayura on the ground, unrestrained, and Chat frozen in place. She immediately went into action.

“Good work, Chat Noir. Now it’s time to—”

“No! WAIT!” He threw out his arm and blocked her just as she threw her weapon, and she missed. Mayura took advantage of this momentary struggle to pull herself to her feet and dash from the alley, her feathered skirt flowing behind her, doing her best to use the shadows of buildings for cover. She was wondering how long she would last before they caught up when she was intercepted a by a tall, masked man in purple. He pulled her between two buildings. _Hawk Moth,_ she thought, looking up into his face.

“Good work, Mayura,” he said coolly. “Let’s not be found here.” He pulled her to his chest and vaulted the nearest building in the direction of the manor Agreste.

* * *

Ladybug was irate. “Why did you _do_ that?? You let her get away! We were _SO CLOSE_ to finding out who she was.”

Chat flinched. _Perhaps I already have._ His miraculous beeped a one-minute warning, which he ignored with a sinking feeling.

“Ladybug, did you _see_ her? Something was wrong with her! She was hurt. Or something,” he shot back, looking way. Ladybug raised her eyebrows in disbelief. This was uncharacteristic.

“Okay, _mister,_ I think something’s wrong with _you_ too. You’re not usually like…this.” She softened slightly, realizing this was not a kind thing to say to her partner, no matter how strange he was acting. She put a hand on his arm. “Okay. I’m sorry. We’ll get her next time.” She sighed, then smiled apologetically. “Pound it?” Chat Noir feebly bumped her fist without his usual conviction and, eyes flicking to his flashing ring, promptly exited the alley as fast as possible.

Ladybug watched him go. _Something happened before I got here. Something important._ And with that, her earrings blinked a final time and she returned to her identity as Marinette.

* * *

Back at the Agreste mansion, Adrien was on high alert. _She couldn’t be Mayura. She wouldn’t. But…what if…why? We already know my father isn’t Hawk Moth. He couldn’t have akumatized_ himself. _So who is she working with?_

He groaned and flopped on his bed, looking around the room. This was giving him a headache. He decided he might go down for a glass of water and that such a quest could provide him something else to focus on. He opened his bedroom door into the foyer and descended the staircase, intending to hang a left towards the dining room and kitchen when he happened to notice the door to the sitting room had been left open a crack.

Curious, he headed towards it. He was glad that his sock feet made no noise on marble tile, as he figured his father and someone else were within. He cautiously peered into the room.

His father was indeed there, standing in his customary ramrod-straight posture with his hands clasped at his back, facing away from the door. He could see the back of Nathalie’s head, sitting slumped in the chair directly to the side of him. Both were looking to the purple-haired Dr. Durand, the family doctor who was called in event of anyone in the household getting sick or hurt.

“…once again Mr. Agreste, make sure she gets plenty of rest,” the doctor implored, scribbling something on a pad of paper. Gabriel inclined his head slightly.

“I will, of course, but in order to do that, she has to _stop_ _using the broken miraculous,_ ” he said pointedly. Nathalie made a noise of objection and rested her head on her arm. Outside the door, Adrien’s hand flew to his mouth to keep in the sound of his shock. He flipped around and leaned his back against the latched of the two doors, sliding down to the floor.

_So Nathalie DOES have a miraculous. And I bet it’s the peacock. And it’s…broken?_ He hadn’t known they could break. Hadn’t Ladybug said they were nearly indestructible? And as a matter of fact, how did his father know this?

A lump in his shirt pocket shifted. _Plagg._ Of course, maybe his kwami would know.

“Hey, Plagg,” Adrien said quietly. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Any of what?” Plagg asked sleepily at a normal volume. Adrien loudly shushed him.

“Nathalie has a miraculous! And it’s broken. I didn’t know they could break,” he said by way of explanation. Plagg’s eyes shifted.

“Mmm, yeeeah, they don’t usually. It would take something really extreme to break a miraculous. And if you use a broken one…well, it’s not pretty. Hey, you got anything to eat? I’m _starving.”_ Adrien fished a wedge of camembert from the plastic bag he kept in his pocket. Even a thin barrier helped to keep him from smelling like foot cheese.

“You’re _always_ starving,” he mumbled, and tossed the kwami their snack. Plagg caught it and munched gleefully. However, their happiness dissolved when they turned back to see Adrien’s dejected face. They swooped over and gulped down the whole bite.

“Hey, cheer up. It’s not going to happen to you.”

_But, Nathalie,_ Adrien was about to say, when he heard footsteps approaching the door.

“Plagg, _hide!”_ he whisper-yelled as he scrambled for cover. The kwami dove into his shirt pocket as Adrien threw himself behind the cluster of chairs hugging the main staircase.

Just in the nick of time. The door opened and Dr. Durand exited, escorted by Gorilla and Gabriel himself. She handed him a sheet of paper from her pad and they exchanged formal goodbyes before she left for her vehicle.

His father’s expression was unreadable, as always. He ascended the staircase towards his private workroom and Adrien attempted to make himself smaller, praying the man wouldn’t look down over the railing and nervously imagining the mega telling-off he would get if he did. Upon hearing the second-floor door shut, he waited a full two minutes before he was satisfied he was safe and crept from his hiding spot.

He couldn’t help but continue wondering how his father knew about miraculouses. It brought him to the book he had once pilfered from his father’s safe. The one with all the superhero designs; the so-called “book of inspiration.”

 _I guess he would know from that,_ he figured. After all, it had illustrations of Ladybug and Chat Noir in it. _Perhaps he’s secretly a superhero fan! That would be a fun thought…_

”Hey, Plagg, do you think my father could be a fan of superheroes?” The kwami reappeared from the depths of his shirt and blew a raspberry.

“That old fart? I didn’t think he could be a fan of anything other than clothes and useless expensive white vases,” Adrien stifled a laugh.

“Thanks Plagg. You always know what to say to cheer me up.” His smile lasted a moment more before his eyes fell on the sitting room entrance again. He had to know. Plagg once again resumed their favorite hidden spot within the shirt as Adrien put his hand on the doorknob. He took a deep breath and pushed it open.

* * *

Nathalie heard the door creak open and then gently shut. The soft pad of sock feet meant it was not Gabriel. She was expecting this, but not so soon. Her entire body hurt from the day’s earlier escapades—especially her shoulder—and she knew this was not going to be a light conversation topic. She steadied her frayed nerves.

“Nathalie?” The boy’s voice sounded troubled. She lifted her head from her hand.

“Yes, Adrien. What do you need?”

“Well…I wanted to apologize for the other day. For calling an ambulance when you asked me not to.” He fiddled with his ring and stared at the floor off to the side. With effort, she shifted to sit up and look at him directly.

“It’s fine. In fact, I should be apologizing to you. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that situation in the first place.”

He looked startled and dropped his arms. “What? No, I mean, are you okay?” He blurted. Part of him was recalling his mother’s symptoms and mentally comparing them to Nathalie’s. She held out her hand, palm up, and he walked over to stand in front of her, placing his own on top of hers. It was a gesture they had developed over the past year after Emilie’s disappearance that meant support, or sometimes _I mean what I’m about to say_. She gave him a small, reassuring smile.

“I’m fine, Adrien. It’s just a dizzy spell. They always pass.” He looked thoroughly unconvinced. Noticing her mostly empty glass of water, he broke their contact to grab it and a pitcher of ice water from the side table to refill it. A sweet gesture, as he didn’t have to. He handed it to her and sat in the chair on the corner to hers. A few moments of silence passed as he frowned into his lap, his leg bouncing in deep concentration. Nathalie watched him carefully.

Eventually he raised his head, but his eyes still wouldn’t meet hers.

“Do you know…do you own a miraculous?” Nathalie almost laughed to herself. He certainly got his directness from his father. She decided to counter, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the door was closed and they were alone.

“I know you’re Chat Noir,” she said levelly, eyeing him. His eyes widened and he shot up to standing, looking her straight in the face. _Finally._

“What? No! I mean, how? I mean, of course not.” He shut his mouth, looking guilty.

“Well, that reaction certainly removed any doubts,” she said. His expression morphed to one of fear.

“Please don’t tell my father,” he said urgently, hurriedly kneeling at the side of her chair and grasping her hand. “If he knows, he will never let me out of the house again, and then I won’t get to go to school, and—”

“Adrien. I’m not going to tell your father.” He bowed his head. She wondered at what point she had made that decision. When he looked up at her again, she could see his question. And the hurt that was with it.

“…can you tell me who Hawk Moth is? Why are you working with him?” It was her turn to look away. She took a deep breath. And another, because she suddenly couldn’t breathe. At least she wasn’t coughing like hell at this moment. Her throat still hadn’t recovered from the episode of a few days ago.

“Sometimes…you make promises. Promises you regret,” she said. _Promises to people who employ you and you’re not sure how you feel about._ She knew it was a lame explanation, but it was not her place to tell Gabriel’s secrets. And she knew it would destroy Adrien to find out that his father was the very person he was fighting against.

“If you can’t tell me who he is, can you stop helping him?” Nathalie started. _Don’t make a promise you can’t keep._

 _…But it’s for Adrien._ She looked back into his face. His chin was resting on the arm of the chair and his hand was holding hers and those green eyes—Emilie’s eyes—were pleading with her. It made her heart hurt.

Oh, he was so young. She remembered being fourteen. Even the smallest events and emotions were so overly intense at that age. She had to.

“Yes.”

_For you._

She hoped to god she wouldn’t have to break it. He smiled at her for the first time since the exchange had started, and she felt his trust in her returning.

“Thanks, Nathalie. I was worried…” His voice dropped off, but he didn’t have to say the rest. She felt a lump in her throat. Worried that she was the bad guy. She supposed she was, although she didn’t want to be…it was only because Gabriel needed her.

Ugh. This whole thing was so…emotionally complicated. She cleared her throat, which turned into a bout of coughing that doubled her over. She realized she was still holding the water glass and took a grateful swallow. The it felt cool on her damaged throat. She groaned as her shoulder twinged and leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes.

She felt Adrien’s hand release hers and a moment later felt him stroking her hair. _Oh, this child._ She would do anything for this child. She exhaled and finally relaxed her features. A few minutes passed with Adrien’s hand running over her hair and Nathalie enjoying the rarity of not having to maintain a mask. Plus, it felt…really nice. As her muscles relaxed, her pain faded to a dull pulse.

“Nathalie?” His small voice and the retracting of his hand brought her back and she slowly opened her eyes to look at him. “…are you going to die?” Her gut wrenched. Good _god,_ what a question. Truth be told, she really didn’t want to think about it, but it’s not like she could tell him that. There was only one answer she could offer. Especially after he had already watched his own mother get weaker and weaker in front of his very eyes.

“No.” she said. Once again, he didn’t look completely convinced, but he also looked considerably less anxious than he had when he first entered the room.

 _Come here._ She shifted and leaned towards him so one arm rested comfortingly across his shoulders from where he was kneeling and the other took his hand again. The miraculous of the cat glinted on his right ring finger. She rested her head on his, and they stayed like that until both were asleep.

After all, he had had a tiring day too.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Gabriel Agreste reentered the sitting area…and stopped in his tracks when he saw his son and his assistant, asleep, in the middle of the room. He walked slowly towards them, careful to make as little noise as possible. A spark of uneasiness struck him. What had they been talking about? How much did Adrien know? He trusted Nathalie wholeheartedly, but what if…?

The anxiety left him when he saw his son’s peaceful face. His perfect son, his beautiful Adrien, was sitting leaning against Nathalie’s chair, using his elbow as a pillow on the armrest. Her arm had slipped off his shoulders and hung down his back, and their heads were together.

He listened to them breathe for a few seconds, the only sound other than the ambient hum of the house. Inhale, inhale; exhale, exhale.

A different feeling suffused him. A warm one. They clearly had more of a connection than he had realized. Granted, he spent more time by himself than with either of them, so maybe it wasn’t too surprising. His eyebrows gathered and he turned to leave, feeling the tiniest bit guilty for not having been there.

* * *

_Everything was on fire. Particles of ash and the rotten-egg scent of sulfur clogged the air. The heat was unbearable, and it was swiftly growing in intensity. Flames leaped below, growing larger and closer with every passing second._

_“Over here! I’ve found something!” The voice sounded far away, growing closer. She was snatched away from the inferno. “This must be another one. Another miraculous.”_

_“Thank you, Nathalie.”_

_It was Gabriel’s voice, but she couldn’t see him. And the voice that was supposedly hers…was not coming from her body. In fact, where was her body? Everything felt horribly off._

_“May I?” Gabriel asked. NO! She screamed, but nobody could hear her. DON’T GIVE IT TO HIM. All of this could be avoided if he never got the miraculous._

_The world lurched, and she was falling, falling through open air, the scorching flames rising up to meet her and swallow her whole…._

* * *

Nathalie woke up screaming. Her body felt like she was burning alive, coated in the molten rock bubbling out of the Tibetan chasm in her dream. A place she had been before. White hot pain suffused her mind, driving everything else out. She curled into a ball, tears squeezing from her eyes, and waited for it to subside.

After what felt like an eternity of agony but was probably only a few minutes, it began to ease. She took a shaky breath and rolled back over, opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling of her apartment. The nighttime lights of Paris bled through her window and illuminated the room enough for her to see the blurry shapes of her few pieces of furniture.

 _Glasses,_ she thought, and reached for them on the nightstand. She brushed her bangs from her face and put them on, turning to the clock radio near her bed. 4:03 a.m. Too early to get up and ready for work, but she doubted she would be going back to sleep again after this latest dream. The duvet had been thrown off and the sheets were twisted into knots around her legs. She must have been seriously thrashing.

 _So much for a restful night’s sleep._ She kicked them away and went to stand up, ignoring her body’s protests and the sudden dizziness as blood rushed away from her head.

Walking to the kitchen she started the coffee pot, then headed to the bathroom where she turned on the light and took a bottle of aspirin out of the cabinet. She poured out the customary two into her hand and left a third on the counter. It rarely helped enough to matter but was worth a shot, except she kept needing more to get the same effect. She wondered wryly if this was actually how she would go out: by overdosing on pathetic OTC painkillers.

Swallowing the pills with some water, she squinted at her reflection. Eyes haggard, no makeup, hair an absolute mess, wearing pajama pants and a tank top. The usual resting sad face. The harsh bathroom lighting didn’t help the pallor of her skin and the bags under her eyes.

God, she looked like hell. She was glad her mother didn’t live in Paris and they didn’t see each other often, because she would likely try to strangle Gabriel Agreste for what he was doing to her daughter.

Sighing, she walked back into the bedroom and turned on the lamp. The glint of the peacock miraculous on her nightstand caught her eye. She was starting to wish she had never found it, had walked away from where it was nestled onto a rocky shelf down the side of a rift in the earth. Gabriel theorized that the exposure to heat for so long is what cracked it. And now that’s what it was doing to her.

Picking it up against her better judgement, she pinned it to her nightwear. Duusu whirled into existence, crowing joyfully. They turned a loop and stopped in front of Nathalie’s face.

“Miss Nathalie! So glad to see you!” Nathalie was already regretting this. 4 a.m. was lonely, but maybe not _this_ lonely. Duusu was also being affected by the broken miraculous, but it manifested in the form of gradually becoming more and more batshit insane. Although she liked them, Nathalie did not have the energy to deal with the kwami’s mood swinging into orbit and back every other second.

Duusu crossed their arms and glared at her silence. “I guess you didn’t call me out just to chat. What do you want?”

“Duusu, how do you fix a broken miraculous?” A lightbulb went off in their eyes and they nodded so hard they almost fell out of the air.

“YES well, only the guardian knows for sure, but I’ve heard about magic pppppotions and mining of source material and perhaps if you procure some eye of NEWT and tear of JOY—” Nathalie held up her hand.

“Thank you, that’s enough.” Tears welled in Duusu’s eyes.

“You don’t believe me?” They wobbled. Nathalie felt bad. It really wasn’t the emotions kwami’s fault that their mind wasn’t working straight. She sighed. 

“I’ll get you something to eat.” Duusu followed her to the kitchen where she poured herself a mug of coffee and dripped some into a spoonful for them. Duusu slurped it up and their eyes spun.

“CaffEEEEINE!” They screeched, winging around the room. Nathalie was regretting this decision even more, but coffee was the only thing she felt she could stomach ingesting at the moment. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Duusu, could you leave me be?” They looked sorry.

“Of course, Miss Nathalie,” they said, quieter, and returned to the miraculous.

Without Duusu’s trilling, the kitchen was once again silent. Nathalie pushed up her glasses to rub her eyes. Her thoughts drifted back to her latest dream.

 _More like a nightmare. That’s the second time I’ve dreamed about falling in a week._ Perhaps it had to do something with the way her life seemed to be spiraling out of control. She couldn’t get Adrien’s disturbing question about whether or not she was going to die out of her head.

She glanced at the clock and sighed again. 4:30. She might as well get ready and go to work early. It would be better than sitting in her tiny dark apartment by herself, wondering how much time she had left before she joined Emilie in the underground chapel.

* * *

Adrien had been looking for his father all morning. Sure, the man never left the house, but Adrien had checked every room he was allowed into and he was nowhere to be found. Letting the air out of his lungs in one exasperated huff, he looked at the clock. Half an hour until school started. He’d better head down to the car. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he exited his bedroom and shut the door behind him. Turning around, he nearly ran into Nathalie, who was presumably coming to get him.

“Oh! Nathalie. Do you know where my father is?” He asked hopefully. She pursed her lips, and he was struck with worry about how exhausted she looked.

“Last I saw he was entering his atelier. He’s probably busy. What do you…” But Adrien was already running down the stairs.

“Okay, thanks for everything!!” He called back, smiling.

Nathalie yawned. She wished she shared his energy. Presenting normalcy so he wouldn’t worry was incredibly draining.

Adrien knocked on the door to the atelier and gently pushed it open a crack. He saw his father standing directly in front of the portrait of his mother. Not an entirely unusual sight, but it was only just gone eight. A little early for brooding, maybe? He opened the door fully and stepped inside.

“Father?” he asked softly.

“Hm.” Gabriel grunted, seemingly lost in thought.

“Father I…I want to know what’s wrong with Nathalie.” Gabriel raised his eyebrows and looked over his shoulder at his son.

“Nathalie is fine. You don’t have to worry about her,” he stated with finality and turned back to the painting.

_Oh, my dearest Emilie._

“But father—”

“Adrien.” _That’s enough,_ he seemed to say. Adrien’s frustration inflated like a balloon in his chest until he couldn’t contain it anymore. It burst.

“ _No!_ She’s not okay. Anyone can see it. She’s dizzy all the time and throwing up even though she didn’t eat her lunch and _I don’t want her to die like my mother!!!”_

Gabriel pressed his lips together and said nothing. When had he come to the conclusion his mother was dead, and not just missing? Adrien strode over and stood as close as he dared, which was still a healthy arm’s length away. “Is that it? Is she going to die? Please, father, I’m so confused! I don’t want to lose her, too!” Gabriel jerked, looking down at his son and his eyes snapped blue fireworks.

“That’s _ENOUGH_ , Adrien. You’re too young to understand. I said Nathalie will be fine. Now leave me.” Adrien jerked back as if pushed.

“You said ‘will be’ this time. She _will be_ fine. You _know_ what’s wrong and you won’t tell me.”

“Do you want me to keep you home from school?”

Adrien looked away. “Fine. Good day, father.” He stormed out in a show of irritation, but once on the other side of the door his anger evaporated, replaced with sadness. _I’m not too young. Will I ever be?_

The honk of the gorilla’s car interrupted his thoughts. It was 8:11. He wasn’t going to make it to school early if he didn’t go out there now. He raced out of the house and down the front steps, opening the car door and throwing himself into the back. Once there he slumped into his seat and buckled in for the short drive over.

* * *

Just like Nathalie, Gabriel had figured it was coming eventually. His son was perceptive enough…in certain situations. But that didn’t mean Gabriel was prepared to handle it. Adrien could have quite a temper when upset, just like his mother. It begged the question, was being Hawk Moth really contributing to his son’s happiness?

He looked at the painting of his wife again. Oh how he longed to hold her, one more time. _It will be worth it eventually._ He wished he didn’t have to go through with his plans though, and his son would be safe and protected forever.

Pressing the secret buttons in the painting, he descended into the dark chapel where his wife’s casket lay.

* * *

Marinette was waiting on the front steps of the school when Adrien arrived. He stepped out of the car, thanking Gorilla, and was halfway up the stairs before he noticed her waving. Her words echoed in his head.

“ _If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”_

He gave a small smile and waved back. She waited the few seconds for him to reach her and then fell into step beside him.

“Hi Adrien! The others have already gone inside. I decided to late-wait! For you. Because you’re late.” She laughed awkwardly. He smiled. This girl positively exuded sunshine, and it was exactly what he needed. “Anyways, why such a gum-glum! Face?”

_“I’m here for you.”_

“Oh, well…I tried to talk to my father this morning. About Nathalie. She’s been getting worse, although she tries to hide it from me…I caught her falling asleep at her desk the other day. That’s definitely not normal for her.” Marinette nodded, picturing the inscrutable face of the always-professional assistant.

“What did your dad say?” she queried.

Adrien looked upset. “He said I’m too young to understand. Which isn’t true.”

Marinette’s face screwed up in concentration. “And you don’t know anything at all?”

“Well…” _How do I explain this without giving myself away?_ “I…overheard my father saying something about…the jewelry she was wearing. That it was making her sick.” He smiled uncomfortably.

_Good job Adrien. That made zero sense._

Marinette couldn’t remember Nathalie wearing any jewelry other than earrings. “Hm, okay. Well, people can be allergic to certain metals, I guess…”

“Yeah, I guess,” Adrien echoed. At this point they had reached the top of the stairs and were about to enter Miss Bustier’s classroom. Adrien held the door open for Marinette and she smiled her thanks. The school bell rang just as they made it to their seats.

Alya winked at Marinette in a conspirational manner and nodded in Adrien’s direction as Miss Bustier called roll, but Marinette was staring at his head with a dreamy look. His beautiful blonde head. Her friend followed her gaze and laughed to herself. If the two of them didn’t get together by the end of the school year, well, she would hijack Hawk Moth’s powers and _make_ them.

Sometime in the middle of lesson, Marinette’s thoughts drifted back to Adrien’s predicament. _Jewelry that makes you sick, huh. I didn’t know jewelry could do that…I mean, my miraculous is counts, but it doesn’t hurt me. Although, it does have the power to change things about me…_

She sat up suddenly and gasped. Alya looked at her in confusion.

_What if Nathalie had a miraculous?_

* * *

On lunch break, Marinette arrived back at the bakery. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it and sighed. Adrien was still really messed up about what his dad had said, and she wanted to help him feel better.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Tom had noticed his daughter’s long face.

“Dad, how would you cheer up a friend who’s upset?” He blinked. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Why, baked goods of course! You can’t be sad with fresh croissants, or perfect crepes…Ooh! What about _pain au chocolat_?” Marinette giggled at her dad’s suggestions and hugged him.

“Thanks dad. I know just what to make!” She looked at the clock. “Let’s see…I have an hour and fifteen minutes until I have to be back in class. If I make a tiny batch REALLY FAST and use some leftover filling, I’ll have just enough time to make Adrien a fresh set of passionfruit macarons!” She clasped her hands under her chin and giggled, then grabbed an apron and went to work with an exuberance that made her father chuckle.

* * *

When Adrien arrived back at home at the end of the day, he felt considerably more joyful than when he had left. Marinette had presented him with a half dozen of his favorite flavor macaron upon their return to class. Apparently, she had used her lunch to bake them especially for him. How thoughtful.

He popped one in his mouth as he walked up the mansion steps, savoring the fruity taste. He was so glad she was his friend. She had such a kind and giving heart and was always willing to listen. He was still chewing walking into the foyer, where he had a thought.

Peeping into the atelier, he saw neither his father nor Nathalie were present. He walked over to Nathalie’s desk and left one of the sweets next to her computer. Glancing at his father’s mounted drawing tablet at the center of the room, he shrugged and headed towards it. It was worth a shot. He carefully balanced a macaron on the top edge. Satisfied with his handiwork, he left the room.

It was sometime later that Nathalie reentered the atelier to grab something out of her desk drawer. She normally kept her desk spotless, so the little cookie was immediately noticeable. _Adrien_. She smiled and picked it up. She couldn’t say she had anything resembling an appetite lately, but how could she turn down this single perfect bite?

Hours later, Gabriel made his own discovery. He held the cookie between thumb and forefinger and examined it intently. It was most likely from his son. _How nice. Especially after this morning._ Normally he wouldn’t indulge, as a trim figure was important to him, but perhaps just this once.

It was surprisingly good.

He wondered where Adrien had gotten it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, chapter two! We've got our first reveal and some adrienette fluff that makes me happy.
> 
> Oh, I forgot to mention: there are bits of dialogue scattered throughout the story that are direct lines from the series. Disclaimer: I don't own them. But if you want to make an easter egg hunt out of it, go for it.
> 
> I can't figure out how to get AO3 to do the indents properly and it's bothering me. I'm pasting from Word, where it all looks fine...eugh.
> 
> *****Edit: Wow, I'm super sorry!! Chapters 2-10 were stuck in draft mode and I didn't know about it. Still getting used to AO3, I think!!! So if you showed up for chapter 1 promised with a full fic and didn't get it, hopefully you will now. Thanks for sticking with me!!!
> 
> Art: a sketch of the scene where Nathalie wakes up at 4am is on the tumblrs @maybemayura !


	3. The Joys of Pockets

If Gabriel Agreste was anything, it was observant. It was one of the things that led him to such success in the fashion industry; he had a good eye for current trends, up-and-coming trends, and old trends that were ripe to resurface. He could pick out the people with the influence and connections that he knew would benefit him.

Like Audrey Bourgeoisie. It had been easy enough to see that getting noticed by the Queen of Fashion would skyrocket his career, and so that’s what he had worked towards for an entire year in his midi-twenties. He analyzed her trends and learned the people she interacted with, and eventually pulled together a collection he knew would circle back to her. And it had worked.

Running a business made sense. Fashion made sense. Trends ran in patterns as predictable as those on a roll of fabric. But people? People did not, when they acted out of emotion instead of obvious logical patterns. Being Hawk Moth and having a miraculous helped to even that playing field. Still, just when he thought he had someone figured out, they threw him for a loop. He thought he had concrete proof that Adrien was Chat Noir…only for it to turn out that he wasn’t.

And then there was Nathalie. His assistant. He had asked her to join Team Agreste shortly after his career took off and when Adrien was just over a year old. She had been loyal and steadfast to him from the very beginning, and had been instrumental in so many parts of his life, from organizing his schedule and fashion shows, to helping find the miraculous, to being there for him when Emilie had…gone away. He knew that without her, he couldn’t be Gabriel Agreste and Hawk Moth at the same time.

Even now, while Adrien was at school, there was so much to be done. He watched her working at her desk from his position at his drawing tablet. He had seen her every day for the past dozen years, so why did he just now find himself noticing new things? Like the way a few strands of hair fell in her face. She had kept the same hairstyle—a practical bun—for years once her hair was long enough to do it. Before that, it had been a bob. He wondered why he was suddenly remembering that. It must be the designer in him. Picking up his pen, he absentmindedly sketched a woman’s profile, one that could have been her.

A quiet cough made him glance back up again and reminded again him that not everything was how it used to be. She coughed harder into her elbow and got up to leave the room. Her eyes flicked to him as if she felt him watching, then away. He gave no response.

This woman. He guessed she was heading to the bathroom again. She was presenting normalcy on so many fronts so successfully, even as her body began to fall apart. He could see it in the different way she walked (why was he noticing the way she walked?) and in her definite decrease in productivity, but he was surprised to find that he didn’t care as much about that last part.

She was _sacrificing_ herself for him.

The realization hit him like the strike of a gong, coursing through his being. _Nathalie used the peacock miraculous, even knowing the risks. And I feel guilty, because she did it to save me._

The assistant reentered the room and went to resume her position at her desk.

“Nathalie.”

“Yes, Mr. Agreste.” Her fingers paused, hovering over her computer keyboard.

“Please take the rest of the morning off.”

“I…I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Take the rest of the morning off, and please get some rest.” And with that, under the gaze of his gaping assistant, he walked to the door and left.

If Gabriel Agreste had a tendency, it was flair for the dramatic.

* * *

It was nearly time for the Paris annual charity benefit gala. Work from designers across the country would be raffled off, including many items from Gabriel’s brand. He had skipped attending the last one, as it had been shortly after Emilie had succumbed to illness. But this year, the press was whispering, and his contacts were advising him he should return.

This would make it his second public appearance in a year if one counted showing up at the fashion show where Adrien was modeling the winning derby hat. The embrace he had given his son had been partly genuine, and partly a calculated move. People were whispering about why the son was leaving the house without his father. Could there be a rift between Agreste Junior and his famous dad? Gabriel was tired of the rumors. If there was one, he didn’t want it to be public. Bad press makes for bad sales.

This brought him to the problem of who would be going with him. Adrien would come, of course. He had just modeled on his first runway and was having tremendous celebrity success. He could be considered old enough to start attending more adult functions under his father’s watchful eye. And it would dispel the latest gossip.

_But it still requires a “date.” And formal dress._ He didn’t have many…female friends. Perhaps Amelie? He immediately dismissed the thought. It would not only be a tremendous social faux pas to take a recent widow, but a terrible idea to take a woman who looked the spitting image of his wife raised from the dead to such a massive function crawling with press. Plus, she annoyed him to no end.

His mind didn’t take long to fall on Nathalie. Another risky move, with the stories it could create, but perhaps a necessary one. There was no real good way out of this; if he didn’t attend, the press speculated. If he did, they speculated about who he was with. If he attended alone…

He sighed. He wished the outside world would go away.

Then he had an idea. Could he make Nathalie unrecognizable enough so that nobody would see his assistant? Like the folk tale of Cinderella. What an…interesting idea. A corner of his mouth turned up. He picked up his pen and flipped back to the quick sketch he had done of her profile and went to work on a design.

“You want me to do _what?”_ she said, when he explained to her his plan.

“It’s the most beneficial way of—”

“No, no, I understand.” She clutched her tablet and pressed her lips together, not looking at him. He was surprised at this uncharacteristic display of discomfort.

“Of course, I doubt it’s in your contract,” he said.

She shook her head. _Well, we haven’t exactly looked at THAT in years,_ she thought snarkily. She lifted her chin and looked him in the face.

“My feelings about modeling for you remain unchanged,” she stated, regaining her composure.

“It wouldn’t be modeling. You’d just have to wear a dress.”

She looked down at her suit and her eyebrows drew together. “What’s wrong with this?”

“Nothing. It’s just…not the dress code. Formal eveningwear. Floor-length. You know the type.”

 _Fuck the dress code._ Nathalie hadn’t had to deal with one of those since…practically high school. They’d been annoying to her even if she was not a frequent violator, often limiting clothing choices to the less-comfortable options.

“Nathalie.” He stepped closer to her, putting a hand on her arm. She struggled to keep a straight face. “You can say no if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay,” she replied. _Why do I want to just say yes?_ He inclined his head solemnly.

“Very well. I shall return for you with a dress design anon.” He turned and exited smartly.

Nathalie exhaled as soon as the door shut. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. _I’m going to a gala. With Gabriel Agreste. As his date. What the actual fuck._

She took off her glasses and set them on her desk, pinching the bridge of her nose. And fought the urge to smile at how absurd this all was.

* * *

Despite her insistence that she wouldn’t model for him, she had to admit she was just a _teensy_ bit thrilled with the dress Gabriel had come up with. What could she say; the man was world-renowned fashion designer for a reason. She stood next to him as they pored over the concept sketches. It was strapless (yikes), with a full skirt, assembled in thin panels that looked like the long feathers of a peacock tail. The color was somewhere in between deep blue and purple—she wasn’t sure, but she liked whatever it was. Embroidered silver thread in a gauzy peacock design webbed across the bodice. Subtle but beautiful. The miraculous references and the fact that it was an Agreste creation gave her uneasy feelings in her stomach, but she still had the overwhelming desire to see what it would look like in real life.

Part of her was mildly appalled by her desire to wear a _dress,_ of all things. She had never had the best experience with such outfits. The last time she had done something remotely that fancy was probably a friend’s wedding, and before that, senior prom. Her prom pictures always made her lightly cringe: skinny little Nath with her pixie-cut, in a now-outdated dress that didn’t really fit her, clearly uncomfortable but still trying to have fun with her friends. She hoped this would not be a repeat of that feeling.

A small consolation was that Gabriel was designing a look for Adrien, too. So at least he would be there, and it wouldn’t be her going alone with the enigmatic artist. But Adrien was far more used to wearing his father’s designs under the public eye. The whole “public function” aspect was the biggest contributor to her rising sick feeling. 

Having never had a dress custom-made, she was unprepared when Gabriel approached her a few days later saying he needed her measurements. He asked if she would please remove her suit jacket, which she did, alarm bells sounding in her brain as the comforting weight of layers left her shoulders.

It made sense; he was going to outsource the job, because while she had no doubt he could piece and sew and hand-embroider the whole thing himself, he simply didn’t have the hundreds of hours needed to accomplish such a feat. Logistics, at least, were something she was familiar with. As well as his busy schedule.

She hung her blazer on her work chair and stood stock still while he approached with a measuring tape. She noted that she had rarely had this much close proximity to her boss save the occasional bump of an arm or grasp of a hand…and being Mayura. She didn’t want to think too hard about the one time she had comforted him with an embrace from behind…or his panicked eyes when she first put on the miraculous and he begged her— _begged her—_ not to do it _._

His touch now was practiced and professional and his eyes focused on the task. He took the measurements of her waist, her hips, the circumference of her upper arms. Bust. Under-bust. Thigh just above the knee and…higher than that. Oh god. It wasn’t _remotely_ sexual in intent, but this was truly the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her in this _very_ weird job.

Each measurement was carefully recorded in a list on the omnipresent drawing tablet. She didn’t know what they were, and honestly didn’t care enough to, but she was sure that she had lost some weight recently. Her slacks fit a little looser around the waist than normal and—

“Nathalie.” Gabriel was looking at her.

“Yes sir.”

“I need you to take a deep breath so I can get a waist expansion measurement.”

“Yes sir.” She did as he asked, praying it wouldn’t end in a coughing fit. He added it to the column with the others and inclined his head.

“Thank you. We are finished here.” She nodded. Walking to her desk and picking up her jacket, she put it back on, relieved at the familiar feel. She exited the room so she could have a few minutes to breathe normally. She wasn’t sure how she was going to easily wear that dress in public—it showed her back and shoulders, something she rarely did, if ever—if she couldn’t even get measurements done while fully-clothed.

* * *

It was just a few days before the gala. Nathalie hadn’t touched the peacock miraculous in what felt like a long time, and she was relieved to find nothing about her health had worsened save a rising anxiety towards the evening. She was still in constant pain, but some days she almost didn’t notice it anymore. Like today. Today was a good day.

Adrien had also had his measurements updated in the same efficient manner, and he was looking smart in a newly fitted fancy suit. A dark grey waistcoat with a nearly imperceptible soft plaid pattern made his green eyes even more striking than normal. This was paired with a black jacket, gold watch chain, forest green tie, and the addition of a newsboy cap of the same material as the waistcoat, which Nathalie thought was adorable when perched upon his golden head. The crisp white collar of his dress shirt and the shiny dress shoes set everything off beautifully. He looked very grown up and winked at her as he passed her on his way out, tipping his cap. _A very Chat Noir performance,_ she thought to herself, amused.

All her doubts quieted when Gabriel unwrapped the paper from the dress she was to wear. She kept her face neutral, but on the inside, she was in _love_. The fabric was a satin that caught the light and was alternately blue or purple depending on the way the light touched it. The silver embroidery shone softly down the front and along the edges. It was so much more beautiful than she could have imagined from the sketches. He held it out to her.

“Put it on, please.”

“Now? The event isn’t until Friday.”

He took an impatient breath. “Minute adjustments are always needed, and I’d rather not be pressed for time to get them done.”

Ah, okay. She wondered why this was even necessary. Wasn’t it supposedly made to her exact measurements?

She took the dress from his arms. It was heavier than she expected. Probably all the layers. She went to the nearest bathroom—the one she had been puking her guts out in a few weeks prior, she was unpleasantly reminded—and changed.

She understood what Gabriel meant about last-minute adjustments as she looked in the mirror. It still hung a little loosely on her torso and was several inches too long. She was pleasantly surprised to find she could do the rear zipper herself, but it might have been because the back swooped so low. Holding up the front so it wouldn’t slip dangerously low from the weight of the skirt, she walked back to the sitting room where they had been before.

She thought she would be more prepared this time. Gabriel’s eye was critical as he walked around her, still holding her dress up by the front. Her back tingled under his gaze. She was unused to the chill sensation of air ghosting across her bare shoulders, never mind that she hadn’t shown this much skin in this house probably _ever_.

“Hmm.” His hand was on his chin. “We’ll have to slightly take in the waist, still. And hem the length. You can wear your shoes if you choose; they don’t clash, and nobody will see them under the skirt.

 _And I’m going to have a hard enough time navigating without having more heel to trip on,_ she thought to herself, grateful for this sense of practicality. Pulling a container of long silver sewing pins from his jacket pocket, he stepped behind her and began gathering the fabric near the zipper for a better fit. She nervously pulled away, sure she was going to get stuck by one of them.

“Nathalie. I do this for a living.”

“Right. But I don’t.” He _hmphed_ in surprise at her retort and didn’t say anything more until he was finished. Walking back around, he inspected it again.

“Drop your arms, please,” he said. She realized she was still holding her hands over her chest. She let them fall. Luckily, it stayed up. There wasn’t cleavage, really, but it was still a decidedly _odd_ sensation to knowingly have her boss staring at her chest. She was certainly getting all the practice today in keeping her face from flushing.

_Fuck this. You can stop now, sir._

He finally nodded, satisfied, and asked her to stand on a chair while he did the hem. She refused his helping hand, gathered her skirts, and stepped up herself. In a surprisingly short amount of time it was finished, and he had her walk a few paces to watch how it swung and to see if it impeded her movement. It was surprisingly easy, and she was glad for it. There was enough range of motion in the skirts that she felt she could still kick her leg up and kill a man with the heel of her shoe.

She returned to the bathroom to change out of it and hand it back to him. With the dress situation sorted, she found herself a little less nervous for Friday.

* * *

Late Friday afternoon, Nathalie stood in a bathroom in the Agreste mansion (a different one on the second floor, by her choice), leaning towards the mirror as she did her eye makeup. The sparse contents of her makeup and hair bags were spread out over the counter, and the beautiful dress was draped over a chair in the corner.

Having never cared for salon environments, she preferred to do everything herself. She had already done her hair up in a high bun, which she had studded with a smattering of rhinestone bun-pins she had bought online. Upon Gabriel’s suggestion, she had used a bit of temporary dye to make the red streak blend better with the fabric color. She hoped it was elegant enough to be on par with everything else in the ensemble.

Satisfied with her eyes for the time being, she stepped back from the mirror. She’d check with him later.

Stepping into the dress and zipping it up, she once again marveled at how comfortable it was. Tailored formal wear was apparently the way to go. Too bad it was probably more expensive than the rest of her wardrobe combined. She swished the skirt once to watch the fabric move in the bathroom light and smiled.

It may be an Agreste design, but it was finally a dress she felt good in.

* * *

Gabriel was tying his bow tie when Nathalie returned. His outfit had a similar style to Adrien’s sans the hat: dark jacket, slacks, shoes and cream dress shirt. The material of his waistcoat was a similar color and fabric to Nathalie’s dress, embroidered lightly with the silvery shapes of butterfly wings. Tasteful, but not too matchy-matchy with either of them.

A full-length mirror could be pulled out from a panel in the sitting room wall for times such as this, and in its reflection he could see her crossing the room in her dress. He had done a good job, and he knew it. She seemed comfortable in it, which is always an important factor in a good design. The decoration was simple, subtle, attractive. Perfectly in line with Nathalie.

 _What?_ Since when had he found her attractive?

He turned his head to look at her directly. The dress accentuated her slim figure, hugging her torso and flaring out just enough at the hips and balancing her shoulders. The color of it set off her dark hair and pale skin. The low scoop of the back showed off the artwork he knew was on her upper back. He hadn't seen it in years. Her makeup could use a small adjustment, he thought. He found himself absentmindedly tracing the lines of her arms with his eyes and shook himself slightly. Being a designer meant he recognized art when he saw it, he guessed.

Noticing something odd, he reached for her arm.

“What’s this?” He gestured to a vaguely discolored area of skin about the size of a softball on the inside of her forearm.

She looked embarrassed. “Just a bruise. I have skin like a peach nowadays. It’s fine,” she said, a little too defiantly. He nodded, releasing her arm, and reached for a bag sitting on a nearby chair. Bringing out a palette of powder, he offered it to her.

“In case you want to cover it. I do wear makeup, you know,” he said, noting her confused expression. “As a matter of fact, would you mind if we touched up yours? I have an eye shadow palette somewhere with a matching shade…”

“You own eye shadow?”

Powder was one thing. Shadow was another.

He glanced over his shoulder as he rummaged. “Let me remind you that part of my job is working with models.”

 _Well, I’m not a model_ , she thought, with a degree of unhappiness. She still wasn’t enough. She crossed her arms over her body as he pulled the offending case from the bag along with a brush. She sighed to herself. Tipping her chin up towards his face and closing her eyes, she felt the brush in the creases of her eyelids and across her brow bone. A momentary pause and snap sound of a plastic lid and a different one brushed across her cheekbones, the tip of her nose and cupid’s bow. “Highlight,” he said by way of explanation when she recoiled slightly, unprepared. “You can open your eyes.”

He handed her a tube of lipstick. She was certainly learning new things about her employer today. She popped the cap and examined the color; darker than she would normally wear—except as Mayura—but if he thought it would look nice, might as well. She went to the mirror and applied it carefully, then stepped back with eyebrows raised. She looked… _great._ He was certainly good with a brush. The added shadow was a darker mauve and made her eyes seem brighter, and the lip color balanced it well. The silvery highlight shined on her cheeks and gave her the feeling of a misty and mysterious character. Also very Mayura; the only thing missing was the boots. She was going to have to ask where he got that highlight. _Later_.

“Put the lipstick in one of your pockets, if you like,” he said from somewhere behind her.

“My…pockets?”

He nodded. Utterly astonished, she put her hands down to the skirt…and oh, the joy! The dress had _pockets._ She smiled and laughed lightly to herself. She hated carrying a clutch and had been dreading missing the practicality of her suit jacket pockets. But here he had gone and put some in. And they were big enough to fit her phone. What a thoughtful addition.

Unnoticed by her, one side of Gabriel’s mouth turned up as he watched her from the corner of his eye while putting away the makeup and brushes. Nathalie’s joy was rare, especially nowadays, and for some reason he didn’t want to miss it.

The makeup was better, he thought, and he found himself distracted. She was wearing contacts, which he hadn’t mandated, as he felt he couldn’t make her go the night without her glasses. But without the hard interruption of the frames, her face looked somehow different. Softer.

He walked over to her and she looked up. Her hand went to her bun, hovering as not to disturb the creation.

“Is this okay? For hair.”

Gabriel took a second to briefly assess the entire ensemble. “You look…appropriately enchanting in it,” he said, inclining his head in the tiniest of bows, and then turned towards the mirror again to fix his own hair. Her mouth dropped open slightly. _Did he just…was he…_

“What?” He had caught her eye in the mirror.

“Nothing,” She said, turning away to hide her expression. _Does Gabriel Agreste flirt? Or is this just him when he’s a normal person and not obsessively preying on the sadness of Paris?_ It had been so long, she was forgetting how he had acted before.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Adrien entering the room. He was mostly ready except for one crucial thing:

“Do either of you have my hat? …Wow, Nathalie! You look great!” She turned towards him and smiled softly.

“Thank you, Adrien. Don’t forget to tuck in your shirt.” He had located his hat on the chair with the makeup bag. Putting it on, he winked at her and went about fixing his dress shirt. Good god. First one and then the other. She glanced at Gabriel’s mirror to make sure her cheeks weren’t as hot as they felt. Thank goodness for foundation and bronzer.

* * *

Shortly thereafter, everyone had been settled in the car with gorilla driving, Gabriel in the front, and Nathalie and Adrien in the back. She was relieved that while Gabriel wasn’t really interacting with his son, he wasn’t making a point to lecture him about necessary etiquette, either. In fact, he was quieter than usual, if that was at all possible. The drive passed quickly with Nathalie’s nerves increasing by the minute. Adrien must have noticed, because he held out his palm and she placed hers on top of it, feeling the warmth of his hand.

She looked at the back of Gabriel’s head in the passenger seat. He hadn’t moved a muscle in several minutes. The car pulled up to the front of the venue, a hotel that was not the Bourgeoisie’s _Le Grand Paris_. Nathalie wondered if it was because charity wasn’t their thing. There was a group of people waiting near the entrance with cameras at the ready, and they began flashing as Gabriel stiffly exited the passenger seat and came around to her side of the car. Adrien joined him.

He held out his arm for hers. His eyes seemed to flick quickly from one place to another. “ _Allons-y, mademoiselle._ Off we go,” he said quietly so only she could hear. Setting her face and ignoring the little flutter in her chest at _mademoiselle_ —and the fluttering of her stomach—she had a thought.

Was he… _nervous?_

Her eyes were accosted with the bright flashing of multiple cameras. Voices called for them to “turn this way.” She blinked rapidly to clear the spots from her vision. It was fine, the dress was great, and she wasn’t who they were after a picture of, she figured. Gabriel was walking straight at a steady pace and ignoring everyone. Adrien was definitely the most accustomed to it, especially post starring in his perfume ad and encountering fans on the daily. He smiled and waved in good humor as he walked at his father’s other side.

“And who have you brought, Mr. Agreste?”

He looked quickly to her and back to the reporter. “A good friend,” he said, seriously, and ushered her away from the flashing cameras.

* * *

The night passed in a blur. She enjoyed the entertainment, didn’t win anything in the raffle (not that she cared), and sipped on a glass of white wine while pretending not to pick at the food. It was good, but with the nervous butterflies in her stomach combined with her pervasive lack of appetite, she was certain she would throw up if she forced more than a few bites.

She noticed Gabriel watching her with a hint of concern as she fingered the stem of her wine glass, and gave him a half-smile of assurance. She had decided on a refreshing pinot grigio and was pleased to find it wasn’t adding to her nausea. On the contrary. She just hoped she didn’t get tipsier than expected with such a light stomach. 

Adrien walked up. He had finished his food some time ago and had been talking to his friend Kagami and her mother seated at a table across the room. Some of the gala guests were mingling and an undercurrent of background music suggested there might be dancing soon.

“Father, might I ask Kagami to dance?” Gabriel nodded his assent and Adrien gleefully went off again to find his friend. Nathalie watched him go.

“He’s doing well for his first public function of this sort,” Gabriel mused, watching his son gallantly conversing with the Tsurugis. He too seemed more at ease than he had earlier. At least he had stopped violently tensing every time someone passed within five feet of their table. Perhaps it was that he had already finished his own glass of wine. She knew he didn’t like large functions to begin with, and it must be particularly jarring after a nearly a year of self-isolation.

“For sure.” Even as an adult who was used to dealing with Agreste events and affairs, she felt uncomfortably out of place, though she was not about to admit it.

A beat of silence passed, and they watched the occupants of the room begin to pair off. The music changed to a modern-style waltz. He stood and turned to her, extending a hand.

“May I have this dance, Miss Sancoeur?” She decided to ignore the grievance of the last name use this once—not to mention the unbelievably formal phrasing—and took his hand. Standing up, she felt the familiar sensation of a head rush and stumbled slightly, her hand going to her forehead. _Damn wine_. He caught her other hand and steadied her, his eyebrows drawing together. “Are you sure you’re all right, Nathalie.”

“I’m fine,” she replied tightly. He led her to the dance floor and clasped her right hand with his left, resting the other on her shoulder blade. She took the cue to put her left hand on his shoulder and looked into his face. They began to sway in time to the music, getting a feel for one another’s movement. It had been a while since she had done any formal dancing. While she knew her body well from years of martial arts training, dancing in a dress was worlds apart from dodging akumas in a suit.

With the gentle pressure of his hands leading and a flash of wordless communication, they moved into a box step and began travelling. It took a few steps before Nathalie’s feet remembered the pattern, but once there it felt natural. _One, two, three; one, two, three._ She watched Gabriel’s face soften and felt his arm relax. He almost looked like he was enjoying himself. He drew her arm across his body, guiding her into a spin and back out again. She smiled at him. He was a terrific dancer. _Of course_ he was.

Gabriel was glad to see her smile, as opposed to her usual resting sad face. He had been worried she wasn’t enjoying herself, that she felt she didn’t belong. She hadn’t eaten much of her dinner. Granted, he had also been anxious someone would realize he was her assistant and the entire night would come crashing down in some sort of scandal. But hours had passed, nothing like that had happened, he had had some wine, and it was all going to be fine.

His troubles about work and worries about his wife were the farthest thing from his mind as they danced. All he could see was Nathalie. The way her eyebrows turned up when she smiled, the lipstick starting to fade from her lips, the bright blue of her eyes. The feeling of her hand in his and swish of skirt. He felt a surge of something in his chest. She didn’t have to come, but here she was.

He twirled her again, then moved his hands so they were on her waist. She readjusted and placed hers on his shoulders, their bodies a few inches apart. They swayed to the end of the song.

“How do you like the dress?”

“It’s lovely. Although surely more expensive than my entire apartment.” _God damn it, alcohol. Don’t say things like that out loud._ He smiled. Actually smiled a closed-lip smile that wasn’t a grimace. “Well, it’s yours.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Adrien was at the drinks table, getting a glass of water for Kagami while they took a break from dancing. She wasn’t permitted to have sugary beverages, so punch was out of the question. She was a good dancer though, and both were glad to have another person their age present to hang out with. He grabbed a macaron off the adjoining dessert table and bit into it. The Dupain-Chengs had provided a delicious assortment of sweets and pastries, but most regrettably, he saw no sign of their daughter.

A swirl of purple skirt caught his eye. His father and Nathalie were in the middle of the floor, dancing. He watched them for a minute. He hadn’t known Nathalie could dance. _You learn something new every day,_ he thought, _even about people you see every day._ He realized he was grinning and probably looked strange, but he didn’t really care. They looked like they were having a good time. A bubble of happiness rose in his chest. This was the best thing to happen all week, except for maybe his new hat.

“Nathalie, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Gabriel said, his face becoming more serious again. Nathalie was immediately wary. This couldn’t be good. And it was decidedly _not_ the best time; they were still in the middle of the dance floor.

“Are you happy?”

“What?” She pulled away a bit from her hold on his shoulders, startled. “I mean, it’s been a lovely evening, so, yes?” _Why was he asking this? How much wine did he have?_ Her stomach turned over. He frowned.

“I meant…in life. In this job.” Nathalie stopped dancing. _Where the hell was this coming from?_ She couldn’t tell him all the things she felt, not here, not now—

Something inside her twisted and her ears rang. 

“I— Excuse me,” she said, and let herself out of his arms. She walked as quickly as she could towards the exit where the signs for the restrooms were, trying not to cause a disruption that would call attention to herself. When she was out of range of the highest concentration of people, she hitched her skirt above her ankles and ran.

Throwing open the bathroom door, she quickly noted it was empty before rushing into a stall and not bothering to close the door. Her stomach heaved, but nothing came up. She stayed there for a few minutes on the bathroom floor, calming her breathing. At least it was a clean bathroom floor. It had better be, for a joint this fancy. She got up and went to the sink, cupping water from the faucet in her hands and took a sip. Not here, not in this dress, not while she was actually having a good time. She once again wondered why and dismissed it as the wine. No way he cared about her _that_ much. But it was a thought…

She pulled the lipstick from her dress pocket, trying to calm her shaky hands and reapplied. She felt very small in the overlarge, ornately framed mirror as she tucked a few escaping hairs back into her bun. Satisfied that she didn’t look a complete mess and that she hadn’t thrown up, she steeled herself to reenter the room.

Nathalie walked back into the main room, over to where Gabriel was standing near their table with a fresh glass of wine in his hands. She got up as close to him as she dared, squaring her shoulders.

“I want a raise,” she said. 

* * *

It was past midnight by the time the three of them left. A light misty rain was rolling in over the city as they drove to drop Nathalie at her apartment building. Adrien was drooping, and Nathalie was not exactly sprightly herself. She ached to yank the bobby pins from her hair and crawl into her lovely warm bed.

Adrien yawned for the seventh time in a row in the backseat. He leaned against the window with sleepy eyes, the glow from his phone screen illuminating his face. Nathalie figured he was messaging Kagami, as he kept smiling. He had in fact sent her a text wishing her a good night, but was actually smiling at a picture he had snuck of Nathalie and his father dancing. He couldn’t wait to show Marinette, the one person he could tell this sort of thing to.

Nathalie found herself watching Gabriel again. His face had reverted back to its normal impenetrable stone. Gone was the easing of tension, the relaxing of boundaries between assistant and boss. Had she gone too far? Had she embarrassed him?

Her stomach sank. She looked out the window and listened to the hum of the car and the sound of wet road under the tires. Adrien sighed. She glanced over at him. His head was nodding, and his eyes were closed, the picture of innocence. It made her heart melt. Tonight, he had seemed so grown up that she could hardly believe it. It made her forget how young he still was.

The car pulled up outside her apartment complex. Gabriel vacated his seat and went around to open her door. She accepted his proffered hand and stepped out of the vehicle, careful not to wet the hem of her dress, and stood under the apartment awning, protected from the mist. It blurred the city lights and made everything seem like a Monet painting, foggy and indistinct. Gabriel was staring somewhere past her shoulder. Nathalie felt her unease return and twined her hands into the fabric of her skirt.

“Is there something wrong, sir?”

“No.” a few seconds of silence.

“Because if you’re regretting this, taking me—"

“ _Nathalie._ I’m just tired.”

“Oh. Of course.” His eyes found her face. He wasn’t wearing glasses, having stowed them in his pocket out of the rain, and they were a very dark grey under the dim awning light. He softened slightly.

“You didn’t have to come, but in doing so you saved me endless troubles.” He leaned forward with his arms clasped behind him, closing the foot or so distance between them and quickly kissed her ever so gently on the lips. She started back. 

“Sir, what in the—”

“Thank you,” he said, and turned to leave. Nathalie stood, processing, and watched him get in the car. The wine was hours ago, and she needed to stop blaming everything peculiar on alcohol. She opened the door of the building in a daze, making sure her skirts cleared when it swung shut, and took the lift to the fourth floor. Down the hall, unlock the door, take off her shoes, remove the hairpins, collapse on the bed. Finally, she could let go of the knot of tension she had been holding the entire evening.

And suddenly she was laughing, laughing with her hands over her eyes because it was all so _ridiculous_. He couldn’t be in love with her. Could he? They had just had a fun night of escape from the routine of work, that was all. He was still in love with his wife. He would continue to be Hawk Moth. Nothing had changed. She would just enjoy the memories of today…and return to work tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, the first section of this chapter has been one of my favorites, teehee. We've finally got some Dramatic Gabe moments starting. And why doesn't Nathalie want to model???
> 
> Obligatory disclaimer that I don't own the characters. 
> 
> At least part of Nathalie's dress design is on the tumblrs.


	4. On the Rocks

Marinette had about two dozen tabs open on her computer. Video clips, news articles, google images, all from Friday’s benefit gala. The work being shown was from multiple different designers, all incredible and inspiring, and had been raffled off for charity. And _Adrien_ had gone, a fact she was regretting, because he was so incredibly handsome in his beautiful custom suit.

A pencil was forgotten behind her ear and another in her hand as she studied the images of items with her sketchbook on her lap. She switched to a different tab and scrolled down a news article looking for a particular designer’s name—and it was _not_ Gabriel Agreste, she had certainly lost some respect for that man even if his designs were fantastic—when an image of the interior of the venue caught her eye…and a familiar pair of people in the background. She gasped and zoomed in.

 _No!_ It was Adrien and Kagami. _I didn’t know_ she _was going to be there!_ She groaned and put her forehead down on the desk. The pencil behind her ear fell out and rolled to the floor.

Tikki swooped to her side. “What’s wrong, Marinette?” Marinette adjusted so her chin was resting on her arms.

“Kagami got to spend the _whole night_ with Adrien! I _knew_ I should have said yes when mom and dad asked if I wanted to help with the catering. I just had so much homework…” She pouted. “Now any chance I had with Adrien is going to be erased because he will have fallen for Kagami’s _perfect dancing_ and _lack of hesitation!!_ This is a _disaster!”_ She threw her arms to the ceiling and slumped backwards into her desk chair as visions of Kagami dipping Adrien on the dance floor paraded through her brain. Tikki giggled and landed on the girl’s shoulder.

“Cheer up, Marinette! She got one night, while you’ve had more time with Adrien over the past few weeks than ever!”

Marinette put her arms down and paused, then smiled at the kwami. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she sighed and looked back at her crush’s face on the screen. 

* * *

_“Which brings us to the question we all want to know: who is Gabriel Agreste’s new muse??”_ Nathalie exited the window of the news clip, entertained. So Gabriel’s idea had worked. She didn’t know whether to be excited or disappointed.

No sooner had she thought this then the man himself entered the room.

“Nathalie, can you get me the monthly finance report today? I need a categorical assessment of our recent expenditures.”

_Well, I could tell you one thing off the top of my head: your son has been spending a lot on camembert._

“Yes sir, I’ll get to it right away.” He nodded and exited the room. She sighed. She knew she was behind on work reports. She still had a dozen emails to respond to on his behalf regarding formal gala thank-you’s, shipping for the raffle items people had won, you name it. She had been feeling better recently, so she had forced herself to eat her entire lunch today in a defiant “I’m fine” gesture, and the resultant unhappiness of her stomach wasn’t helping her productivity.

She had been right. Nothing had changed. She was still tired and he was still mostly a brick wall. At least her raise was in the books and processing. She had never expected that to actually work.

Resting her forehead in her hands she gave herself a moment, letting a torrent of thoughts and emotions rush over her. Then she opened Microsoft Excel, pushed her glasses back on her nose, and got to work on that report.

* * *

It was the end of a particularly bad day. Nathalie had been pushing herself to catch up on her workload over the past week and it was taking its toll. She squinted at the computer screen, trying to get the whirling letters of the email she was writing to settle back down into words and sentences.

She groaned. It was no use, and her head was pounding. She took off her glasses and pillowed her head in her arms to rest for a minute. It was almost nine at night, and she should be going home soon. Of course, one of the five or so bedrooms in the house was one always reserved for her stay, but she didn’t like using it unless she had to. It was decorated more for aesthetic than comfort, with few of her personal items, and she much preferred her own bed.

No sooner had she put her head down than she heard the door to the atelier open. Just her luck. And the footsteps were not the light ones of the younger Agreste.

“Nathalie.” Gabriel’s voice was level as a tabletop. “I have noticed how hard you’ve been working this week, and I would like to thank you for it.”

 _Take your thanks and shove it up your ass,_ she thought, but without much conviction. She sighed and lifted her head.

“Yes sir.”

His eyes held a measure of concern she hadn’t expected. She had seen him less than usual this week and it felt like he had hardly noticed her.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.” _What was he doing?_

“Clearly not.” He took her arm and helped her to her feet. She couldn’t speak; she was so confused. “I think I know something that could help,” he said, and led her to the dining room. She struggled to keep up with his long legs.

A bottle of vodka sat near the edge of the long table, next to a tureen of ice and a small, half-finished glass.

Ah. That explained some things. _Didn’t know he was an ‘on the rocks’ kind of person._

“Care for a drink?”

“Sir, isn’t this…entirely unprofessional?”

“Perhaps. But I figured I’d offer; you haven’t been relaxed in forever.” He took a sip from his glass. Nathalie shrugged. He was right, though why he was trying to help her out _now_ she was unsure. But a drink might at least help her forget the aching of her body, and it wasn’t like this was the first time they had imbibed in one another’s vicinity.

“I’m not exactly a fan of vodka by itself,” she said. Whatever he had wasn’t even flavored, which was always more fun. He shrugged. Heading over to the kitchen, she opened the (massive) refrigerator for something she could mix. She spied a carton of orange juice and brought it back out to the table. Screwdrivers were worlds better. She poured herself a glass and added some of the spirit, raising her eyebrows at the expensive brand.

Gabriel watched her add ice and swirl the glass and its contents before taking a long sip. He couldn’t figure her out. One minute she seemed to let down her guard, the next it was back up again like the iron gate of a castle. It made guessing what she felt about him a real trick.

He supposed he was much the same. He didn’t like showing weakness, or much emotion at all for that matter. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t even sure of his own feelings for _her._ But it was much more frustrating on the other end. He liked it when she loosened up like this.

“Nathalie.”

“Yes sir.”

He cringed internally. “Please don’t call me sir. When we’re alone.”

“Yes s—” She stopped herself and nodded. “What do you need? Gabriel.”

“I was wondering if perhaps you would let me add some photos of your gala dress to my portfolio files.” Her face set. Up went the walls again.

“I told you, I’m not going to model for you.” She sipped her screwdriver.

“Why not? You’re pretty enough to do it.” _Did I just say…._ he watched her reaction, which was to choke on her drink a little and turn to the side to attempt to swallow it. A chuckle rose in his chest and he sputtered, trying to camouflage it. It didn’t work particularly well. Their eyes met and both of them laughed out loud.

Gabriel found his eyes wandering. Her smile, her shoulders, her waist. Her long, slim legs. He noticed hair was starting to fall out of her bun. He had measured every inch of her for that dress, but he was only now truly seeing the whole of her. Vodka tended to do that. He was enjoying being able to let go a little himself.

Nathalie wiped her mouth. _A literal hour ago I wanted to stab this man in the guts, and now we’re drinking together. This is definitely the new bar for ‘weirdest thing to happen at my job.’_

She noticed she was already almost out of screwdriver. _Why not have another? I haven’t gotten hammered in a loooongg time._

* * *

Adrien was sure he had heard someone laughing. He paused, then dismissed it and went back to his homework. Nobody laughed in this house. He and Marinette were finalizing their design for the egg drop competition on Monday, and he would be going over to her house to work on it the next day, so he needed this to be done before then.

…There it was again. Utterly distracted, he put down his pencil and stood to go investigate. Plagg zoomed over from their place on the bed.

“Is there a yucky happiness demon possessing someone in the house that we don’t know about?” They queried.

Adrien paused with his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t know, but I’d guess it’s father or Nathalie.”

“Euuuuugh, sounds like mushy lovey date night.” The kwami gagged dramatically. “I’m not going.”

Adrien smiled and shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, and exited, shutting the door behind him.

Plagg thought for a moment. “On second thought, maybe they have a cheese platter!” They phased through the door to follow their master.

Adrien tiptoed down the stairs. He first peeked into the atelier. Nothing. The dining room, then. He pressed his hand evenly against the door and silently pushed it open a crack so he could see in. His father and Nathalie stood in conversation on opposite sides of the table. Nathalie wasn’t wearing shoes or her suit jacket, and there was a glass of something in her hand. She was smiling. His father also looked…strange. The usual stiffness was gone, and so was the frown. A bottle was on the table between them.

 _They’re…drinking? Holy crap,_ he thought. This was odd, to say the least, and it made him feel weird. What did it mean? He let the door swing shut and jogged up the stairs back to his room. He pulled his phone from his pocket, opening his text messages, and tapped on Marinette’s thread.

_Marinette, you’re not going to believe this. I think Nathalie and my father are drinking alcohol together._

Almost immediately, the ellipsis appeared. He was glad she didn’t go to bed early. Designers, he supposed. They must all be night owls. The little bubbles disappeared, then reappeared, and finally a new message popped up.

_No way!! Are you sure???_

It took her that long to write that?

_I mean, they had glasses and a bottle and they were smiling. So I guess?_

_What did the bottle say?_

Adrien wracked his brain. _Grey Goose, I think._

_Oh, that’s vodka. Don’t ask me how I know._

_….how do you know._

_Hahaha my parents taught me. Alcohol goes in cooking and baking sometimes. Vodka can go in pastry dough. But that’s an expensive kind._

Adrien was impressed. Marinette was full of surprises. But it made sense for her to know if it was sometimes found in a bakery. He wished his father would teach him things like that.

 _Okay, but what could this mean?_ He messaged.

_I don’t know!?1 Maybe they just wanted some time to not think about dork?? Adults do that for fun I guess. ***work !_

He smiled at her typo, finding it very in character. His father and Nathalie, having fun together. A concept.

His phone dinged again. _Anywayssss, how are you doing on the project??_

He wrenched his brain away from thoughts of the two people downstairs smiling at one another and sent her his reply. They had a lot of work to do tomorrow if they were going to win.

* * *

 _Two inches of heel really make a difference_ , Nathalie thought to herself absentmindedly. They were now standing much closer together. Even though she wasn’t that short, 167cm flat-footed, Gabriel was a very tall man. She was just now noticing how long his legs were. Perhaps that partially explained why all of his pants were custom tailored. She tried not to think about how nicely they fit him.

“How are you now?” He asked her. A few blonde strands of his hair had freed themselves from his normally impeccably coiffed locks and were touching the tops of his ears. Her head was beginning to feel like a balloon, floating two feet above her on a string.

“I’m fine,” she said, but this time she was smiling loosely.

He smiled too. “I need you to do me a favor.” His voice was low, and he stepped even closer. Nathalie’s smile wobbled at the edges.

“What…is it?”

“Stop being Mayura. Stop putting on the miraculous.” A strange relief coursed through her system, and she nodded. She could do that. He enfolded her in a hug. She felt his breathing and the warm weight of his body and the scent of alcohol and hugged him tightly back. He pulled away all too soon and put his hands on her shoulders. 

“Adrien has been noticing. I don’t want my son to be worried.” He looked very worried, with how his eyebrows were just like Adrien’s.

“I know.” He didn’t know how right he was. She had made a promise to the boy after all. “But I still want to help you. Even if I’m not Mayura.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t think I can stop you.” He reached for his glass and finished it.

Nathalie couldn’t remember how many drinks she had had. Was this 3? Or 4? Either way it was probably time to stop. She had convinced Gabriel to try a screwdriver some time ago, and the orange juice carton was practically empty. She knew he was at least one ahead of her. The room swirled every time she turned her head and she didn’t trust herself to walk anywhere by herself. At least her body didn’t hurt anymore.

“You’re staying here tonight.” His voice sounded funny, and he was steadying her.

“I’m not drunk, you’re just blurry,” she laughed. Gabriel’s hands were on her waist and she found herself staring up at him.

On an impulse, she stood on tiptoe and pecked his cheek. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but Nathalie wasn’t sure she cared anymore. His eyes widened and then his face softened into an expression she had never seen on him before. He bent his head and kissed her softly on the lips.

 _Well damn, if this is what vodka does for Gabriel Agreste…_ she didn’t finish the thought, because he was kissing her again. Exploratory, and turning into something more, tasting of the sting of alcohol. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his torso and gently pulled him to her, kissing him back more forcefully. His hands were warm, pressing into the small of her back, and his lips were softer than she expected. It wasn’t like she had gotten time to experience that last kiss, the one under the awning in the mist.

He pulled away slightly to look her in the face again as she opened her eyes, then brought a thumb and forefinger to her chin and moved her head slightly to the side. He found the curve of her jaw beneath her ear and he kissed it, then a little lower, and then his mouth found the place where her shoulder muscle met her neck and she was in heaven. Her whole body shivered, and she whimpered. _Gabriel. How._

“Is this what you want?” He whispered in her ear. She could feel the tiniest roughness of stubble against her cheek. Their drinks sat forgotten on the table behind them.

“If you do…yes.” She replied. Her head was foggy and getting foggier, but she was sure about this one thing. He nodded. He was actually a gentleman when he wasn’t an asshole, she figured. She moved her hands to the back of his neck and kissed him again, messing up his hair even more. He gently leaned his body towards her so his hips pressed her against the dining room table and found the same spot on the other side of her neck and _oh god how does he know how to do that._ She bit her lip. She wasn’t exactly new at this, but she had to admit it had been a while. She pushed her hands up under his vest and untucked his shirt, stroking the smooth skin at the fronts of his hip bones. He sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling warm.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

_What are you talking about? You’re married._

“Sir, you’re ridiculous.”

Neither of them would remember much the next morning.

* * *

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

_She was dying. Dying, and he was helpless. Completely helpless. The monitor showed the slowing of her heart. She was losing color. Even her hair seemed paler than its usual sunshine-y yellow. All of her, turning as white as freshly fallen snow._

_Helpless._

_He had a miraculous, and even he couldn’t save her. Or could he….?_

_Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeep._

_“NOOO!”_

* * *

Nathalie woke up to a splitting headache. She groaned and pulled the sheet over her head. The light _hurt._ The next morning really wasn’t the same in once you hit thirty as it was at eighteen. At least she hadn’t dreamed, for the first time in what felt like months.

 _Oh dear._ This was not her bed. She sat up and squinted, trying to ignore her throbbing skull. At least she had had plenty of practice functioning while in pain, because she had the feeling this was not going away anytime soon. She was in her bedroom in the Agreste house. Thank god. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if she had woken up in Gabriel’s bed. Committed murder to cover her mistakes? Probably not, and she doubted ‘hangover worse than axe in forehead’ counted as a m

Spying a glass of water on the nightstand, she reached for it and took a few grateful swallows. It wasn’t coffee, but it was good enough. Come to think of it, she didn’t remember much of the previous evening past…well, she wasn’t sure. And she didn’t think she wanted to know. Possibly…kissing. But one thing was for certain: Gabriel Agreste was _definitely_ into her, and she couldn’t deny liking it.

Except for a stabbing guilt in the pit of her stomach. She was betraying Emilie, her friend. Her _best friend._

Good god. She remembered why she had stopped doing this. Alcohol was incredibly effective at erasing the pain of the present, but later on it made everything _so_ much worse.

* * *

Gabriel had his own headache, though he had been up for hours. He never could sleep more than five hours at a time for one reason or another, and it was annoying when he actually wanted to rest. Today he had woken up in a cold sweat. He didn’t remember why, but dreams hadn’t been kind to him after Emilie’s disappearance.

He had gone up to Nathalie’s room and left a glass of water for her for when she woke. She had been cocooned in the sheets, sound asleep, her loose hair obscuring her face. Whatever had gone on last night, one thing was sure: he knew how she felt about him now. It gave him so many…feelings, not all of them good.

The elevator made a slight thump as it touched down. Gabriel gazed at the high ceiling of his dark underground chapel, and then at the light at the end of the pathway. He stepped out and began the walk down the center aisle towards it. His thoughts shifted to his wife.

His gorgeous, loving, driven, happy wife, who he had met as a college student. He had been skinny and awkward in his early twenties, with big dreams of being a world-class designer and no real idea how to talk to the opposite sex. And they were so out of his league. Her and her best friend, Nathalie Sancoeur.

One was a med student who had eventually changed her major, the other studying archaeology. It was Emilie who had first told him about the miraculous, in the library during a long night of studying. Her face leaned towards him over a textbook spread showing ancient artifacts, her eyes brimming with excitement in the dim light. She said…he couldn’t remember what she said, exactly. But he had drawn her a picture of the items of power he thought she was describing. She had loved it, and he loved her joy.

He reached the end of the promenade. Looking at his wife laying there, once so alive and now so, so lifeless…something inside him cracked.

_What have I done? Emilie. Forgive me._

His happy memories of her were slowly fading, as memories tend to do, replaced with this single image of her as she was now. He suddenly remembered the flowers he had forgotten in his hands. A bouquet of lilies. He placed them on top of her casket and studied her face. Was it just him, or was she paler than she had been just yesterday? She was alive, he knew, kept barely hanging on by the finest of modern medical technology. But he was so afraid sometimes when he looked at her that she had died and he wouldn’t know. His breathing quickened, and a faint ringing started in his ears. The dark walls of the chapel seemed to be closing in, suffocating him.

He looked down at her hands. Her fingernails were faintly pink. It was fine; nothing had changed. He took a breath.

His arms felt as heavy as lead, and he gasped and sunk to his knees. A single tear traced its way down his cheeks. He wondered if he should give up. It was so much pain, so much stress in his life every time one of his akumas failed. And she looked so peaceful… _But I cannot imagine what I would do if I lost you completely, dearest. I’ll bring you back. I’ll get Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous if it’s the last thing I do._

He leaned his head back against the casket, feeling the weight of his own sorrow.

_And if I don’t, I’ll join you._

* * *

Adrien could not for the life of him figure out why his father and his assistant were complete and total _zombies_ today. A single glimpse of his father told him not to open his mouth. The man had raging undereye bags and the thin line that was his mouth said he was not in a mood to be trifled with. Nathalie wasn’t much better. Adrien had waved to her on his way out the door to heading to Marinette’s, and she hadn’t apparently seen him.

 _Such is the glamorous life of Adrien Agreste,_ he thought to himself as he got in the car. _Nobody notices me._ He clicked the lock button on his phone screen and stared at the photo of his mother’s face. He missed her.

But he cheered up when Gorilla let him out at the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery. It was impossible to feel anything but happiness in that place. Plus, it was ideal for the construction of this project: they could conduct test drops from Marinette’s balcony, and there were plenty of raw eggs.

Marinette and her parents greeted him at the door, with hugs (Sabine), offerings of assorted pastries (Tom), and a pink-cheeked smile and wave (Marinette). They went up to Marinette’s bedroom. Adrien had only been there twice before, but he was reminded of how odd it was that it was so…devoid of wall decorations. He shrugged. She must just like to keep things neat, though her messy desk said otherwise. It was strewn with cardboard, paper, tape, plastic shopping bags, and other assorted construction detritus.

Marinette pulled a chair for Adrien and flopped down in her own, opening her sketchbook.

“Okay, so today is testing day! We need to prototype these builds—build these prototypes! Which one do you want to do??” Her eyes flicked to him and then immediately back to the page. Adrien said he didn’t have a preference, so she chose one and they began.

They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Marinette gave herself a paper cut.

“Ouch. _Merde,”_ she muttered, putting it in her mouth. Adrien gasped and spun around, clasping his hand to his chest in mock offense.

“Marinette Dupain- _Cheng!_ Don’t _say_ such things!” Her mouth rounded as she realized he had heard, and her face flushed. She immediately looked sheepish, putting her hand behind her head.

“Oh, well, I don’t usually, I guess I just picked it up somewhere, you know how it is, hehe,” she babbled. Adrien giggled.

“I don’t _care,_ you goose.”

“ _You’re_ a goose.” Her cheeks got redder. She cleared her throat and got up from her chair to cross the room, presumably looking for more materials. “Wait, so you mean you don’t cuss? At all?” She called over her shoulder.

Adrien shook his head, and sat up straight with his hand to his forehead like a dainty renaissance lady, attempting to project an air of angelic innocence.

“Never in my life have I such imbibed,” he said, faux-grandly.

Marinette threw a pillow at him.

“Hey!”

She giggled. “You can say _merde._ It’s not even that bad.” He threw the pillow back at her.

“My father would never allow it. He’d call me a blot on the family name.” He picked up his legs and spun in the swivel chair, and when he had rotated all the way around, he found that Marinette was standing directly in front of him, a pillow in each hand.

“Well, he’s not here! So you can say it if you want.” Adrien paused a brief second, pursing his lips and considering his options, before exploding into action, grabbing a pillow from her and beaning her lightly on the head with it.

“Noooo!” She fell to the floor, giggling, hitting him back. “Say it! Say it!” They continued trying to beat the _merde_ out of each other in the friendliest way possible.

“Say what?” came a new voice. The two froze. Adrien was now the one on the floor, with his legs up in the air keeping Marinette at bay. She was attempting to lean over them to smack him but couldn’t reach. Tom Dupain’s face had appeared from a crack in the hatch on the bedroom floor. Adrien sat up quickly and Marinette hid the pillow behind her back. They looked at each other sideways and back at Mr. Dupain.

“Merde,” they said at the same time, mortified.

Tom bust out laughing. “You say _that_ again, and I’ll wash your mouth out… _with cookies!”_ He held up a tray of freshly baked treats.

Marinette facepalmed. “Daaaad, that’s not how it works!” But she was smiling. Adrien was reaching for the plate.

“How about you guys take a break from all this building for a snack?” Sabine’s voice came from below and the top of her head appeared.

“We’ve only been up here for like, ten minutes!” Marinette objected. But her expression said she was game. Everybody laughed, and one after the other descended the stairs.

Adrien was once again reminded why he liked Marinette’s house so much: it was full of joy wherever he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter for sake of organization, but! Things are getting good in the GabeNath dept. I don't actually know how those two would act drunk so I just had to guess ahahaha. And of course, Adrienette. Cuties. 
> 
> I don't own the characters. 
> 
> Obligatory tumblr plug @maybemayura .


	5. Tea and ...Eggs?

It was the day of the competition. The students in Miss Bustier’s class were going head to head with their egg-protection devices to see who had the ultimate design, with Mrs. Mendeleiev supervising.

Marinette and Adrien were standing near one another (to Marinette’s unease and delight). In her hands was the box containing their final protection design. They had gone with a parachute-like contraption that they had tested multiple times from Marinette’s balcony a few days prior. The parachute safely carried the egg to the ground every time but one, when it was hit by a passing bus. The egg cracked against the windshield to Marinette’s chagrin and Adrien’s amusement. They laughed until their sides hurt and then spent a bit extra time building a second.

They stood at the back of the line with the other student pairs, waiting for their design to be approved by Miss Bustier and Mrs. Mendeleiev. Per the given parameters, it had to fit within a box that was a foot cubed to pass inspection.

Marinette pressed her lips together and shifted her weight from side to side. Adrien noticed his partner’s nerves and put a hand on her shoulder, giving her one of his classic sweet smiles. Marinette nearly melted on the spot.

“Cheer up, partner. We’re only dropping from successively higher places on the stairwell, which is nowhere near as high as on the roof.

She looked down at the contraption in her hands. “Yeah but what if…”

“Nope. It’s all going to be fine,” he said. “It’s worked every time.”

“Max and Kim’s looks impressive,” she said, looking towards the front of the line. Max had designed an impressive-looking oblong protective shell with a propeller for the egg and Kim had decorated it, which was obvious from the red paint, sports stickers, and…monkeys? Marinette had heard them explaining in detail to a puzzled Rose and Juleka about the robotic pieces and shock absorbers and thingamawhatsits it contained. The only problem was it looked a little…large.

Max placed it in the box. Or attempted to. The propeller bit was too wide to fit entirely within. Mrs. Mendeleiev frowned.

“I’m sorry Max, Kim. But your design does not fit within the rules. It is henceforth disqualified from the competition.”

Max objected. “Where was this stipulation? I never saw it!” Mrs. Mendeleiev showed him the paper with the rules and pointed to the line. Max threw up his hands. “B-but—”

Miss Bustier put a hand on his shoulder. “We all make mistakes sometimes! I’m sure it would have worked fantastically.”

Kim chimed in. “Yeah, I forget to read stuff all the time. It’s still a cool design, bro.” He retrieved the device from the box. Max hung his head, and the two walked off.

Marinette and Adrien stepped forward. Marinette held out their device at arm’s length, and Mrs. Mendeleiev took it with an eyebrow raised. She held the top of the parachute so the cradle hung below it and eyed its length.

“Hmm…I can already see that when expanded, it exceeds a foot in length. However, the rule is technically that it needs to fit in the box…” she bent down and did as such. The parachute deflated and fit easily inside. The science teacher nodded. “Okay. Technically, you pass.” Marinette hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. She let it go with a small sigh and relaxed. Adrien took their device back.

“Okay, thank you Mrs. Mendeleiev!” He turned to Marinette as they walked off. “See? Nothing will go wrong today!” They joined the group of students waiting by the stairwell. Kim was back to watch, but Max was nowhere to be found. Miss Bustier followed them and clapped her hands together to get the students’ attention, and everyone turned towards her in anticipation.

“Alright, class. Let the egg drop contest _begin!”_

Everyone’s egg survived the three-meter drop. At four, Chloe and Sabrina’s design failed when the egg rolled out of its containment, which Chloe deemed “utterly ridiculous!” and stalked off. Sabrina, who had done the entire thing herself, skittered after her to console her. Ivan and Mylene’s design sustained damage and did not make it past the next round.

At five meters, Rose and Juleka’s egg cracked. Disappointed but still excited to see the end results they gathered up their contraption, from which a continual dust cloud of pink glitter seemed to emanate.

At six, Nathaniel and Alix were out. Marinette’s heart beat loud in her chest every time their design was dropped from a new height. It floated softly and sedately to the ground every single time. Theirs and Alya and Nino’s device were the only two left.

Nobody was out at meter seven. The class held their breath. There was only one more level to go. Even Adrien looked nervous. Alya and Nino put their heads together, whispering and fiddling with their project as Miss Bustier stood on the balcony with Marinette’s and Adrien’s design held at arm’s length above her head, approximately eight meters above the ground. Despite the students climbing the stairs every day, it felt like a much longer way down.

She leaned out and let go. Marinette wanted to shut her eyes but found she couldn’t. Even Adrien was grinning nervously. Everyone’s eyes followed the slow, twirling path of the parachute. Once on the ground, Mrs. Mendeleiev confirmed that the egg was still unbroken, to cheers from the spectating pairs. Marinette nearly fainted. They had survived! Now it was down to their two best friends.

Alya and Nino stepped up nervously. They appeared to have done minor repairs on their device, which was a web of straws radiating from a central point that absorbed the force of the impact. New bits of tape wound around some of the joints. Nino handed it off to their teacher, who raised it above her head and let it go. It fell and hit the ground with a crunch. The repaired joints had not held up as well as the original construction, and yellow egg yolk seeped out onto the courtyard floor.

The class went wild. Marinette and Adrien had won! Everyone (except for Chloe, Sabrina, and the absent Max) rushed up with congratulations and high fives. Alya and Nino came over and shook hands in good sportsmanship, somewhat disappointed but still happy for the pair.

“ _Egg_ -scelent job, bro,” said Adrien to Nino, who laughed and slapped him on the back. Marinette giggled at the pun. That was totally a Chat Noir thing to say.

“I mean, right back at you! Congrats on your win, Egg Masters!” he replied. Adrien couldn’t help but wonder if his father would be proud that they had won. Probably not. Alya threw an arm around Marinette’s shoulders.

“What can I say, Marinette’s a designer of many things! I knew she could do it,” she said, smiling.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” Adrien said. Marinette’s heart leaped, and she beamed.

“Oh, well, I couldn’t have done it without Adrien! He did a ton of work!” She laughed. Their eyes met for a second before they both looked away, a faint tinge of pink on both of their cheeks. Alya waggled her eyebrows at Nino knowingly. 

The moment was broken by Rose rushing over and grabbing the girls’ hands.

“Come on, they want to take pictures of first, second and third place!” She squealed. Marinette laughed as she was dragged along by the tiny girl, Adrien and Nino running after them.

“ _All hail the EGG MASTERS!”_ someone shouted as the camera flashed, and everyone cheered.

* * *

The faint noise of celebration echoed from the locker room, where Max sat on a bench with his failed design in his lap.

_How could I have missed that parameter? I was sure I had all the variables accounted for. I would have had a 97.6% chance of winning!_ He thought. He was mad at himself for messing up, and for letting down Kim. Although Kim was outside celebrating, so maybe he was fine. He put his head in his hands and tried to suppress the stinging of his eyes, not noticing a black butterfly silently flutter through the open locker room window.

* * *

At the same time of Adrien and Marinette’s eggs-traordinary victory celebration, Gabriel and Nathalie were occupying their customary work positions in the atelier, quite the opposite. The silent tension between them was nearly unbearable. Neither of them were about to broach the topic of the happenings of a few nights prior, yet both so desperately wanted to. Nathalie’s muscles were as tightly coiled as springs, and it wasn’t helping her be more productive.

A sharp intake of breath from Gabriel made her nearly jump from her seat. His hand went to his ascot, shifting it to reveal Nooroo’s glowing jewel.

“I feel an emotion of great intensity…” he muttered, stepping towards the painting of his wife.

“Sir, I’m coming with you,” Nathalie said, moving from behind her desk. His hands paused over the hidden buttons.

“No. If I remember correctly, you agreed not to become Mayura again.” Nathalie’s face flushed, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. They had been drunk when she had done that, for god’s sake. Promises mixed with alcohol are not always ones you keep. 

“I don’t care, Gabriel. I’m coming.” She couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in the room alone. 

He actually turned around. “ _No._ For love of god, _stay here_.” She pressed her lips together and watched him press the buttons and descend into the floor. As soon as he disappeared, she went to the hidden cabinet where the peacock miraculous had been replaced next to the framed picture of Emilie. She pinned it to her shirt. A tingling sensation ran through her, like she had touched a low-voltage electric fence, as the miraculous reestablished connection, and immediately she felt like she had just run a mile at full speed. She put her hands on her knees, exhaling shakily.

The portrait of her friend seemed to watch her, larger in death than she had been in life. 

_I’d gladly give up my wishes, if it meant you could keep yours._ She stood up.

Nathalie stepped onto the elevator platform, trying to control her breathing over the short trip. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea. The elevator platform reached its destination with a slight _clunk._ Nathalie spied Hawk Moth facing the window with the focus that meant he had found his new victim. She could hear his monologue.

“ _Ahh,_ a failed designer who blames himself! What _perfect_ prey for my akuma!” A butterfly landed on his hand. Adrien had that egg drop contest today. This was probably one of his friends, which meant he was in danger... Nathalie couldn’t help but wonder with annoyance if Hawk Moth had ever felt the same as his victims, or if he simply didn’t care enough to feel remorse for the consequences of his actions.

“Duusu, spread my feathers!” she said quietly. She lifted her chin as she transformed. A crippling pain shot through her and the world listed sideways. A _thud_ feeling as her body hit the floor, pain holding her muscles in a vice grip. She squeezed her eyes shut. This _hurt._ And on top of that, she was beginning to think she didn’t want to do it anymore.

 _You promised to stop,_ a voice echoed in her head. To Adrien. And Gabriel, for that matter, but as his assistant she was obligated to help him reach his goal, right? What did she choose? _Who_ did she choose? She gasped in agony, but it was already beginning to slacken.

 _Choose yourself. For once. Because if you don’t, you soon won’t be here to help either of them._ The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

“…f-fall my feathers,” she gasped out, and her muscles relaxed as the power of the miraculous left her body. That had been…worse than she had expected.

“Nathalie.” She felt Hawk Moth’s hand on her shoulder. He had sent his akuma to that poor kid. She opened her eyes and forced herself to sitting. “I told you to _stop using the damn miraculous._ ” She coughed into her hand and nodded, too drained to argue.

So he did feel remorse. Accepting his helping hand, she got to her feet and shakily stepped towards the elevator platform.

“I’m…going to rest now,” she said, her voice higher than usual, and left. Hawk Moth watched her go, grimacing. He needed to make sure she never did that again, lest she follow the same path as his wife….

He turned his attention back to the havoc his akuma was wreaking. The newest supervillain had the power to build around himself robotic contraptions at will and had Ladybug and Chat Noir effectively cornered. Hawk Moth was impatient. He needed their miraculouses more than ever with another life on the line, and he needed them _now._

He watched the scene. There was no escape for the two heroes. _Excellent._ They were right in position for the final blow. He twirled his staff and tucked it under his arm. _Come to me, my precious jewels,_ he thought to himself, and went out to enter the battle.

What could go wrong?

* * *

_Everything,_ was the answer.

The superhero pair had triumphed yet again with the help of the _infuriating_ lucky charm, and he had gotten the shit beaten out of him to boot. They were getting stronger together, and it was not a good sign.

Nathalie was getting a drink of water when her boss staggered into the dining room, shirt untucked, hair a mess, and his hand over his face. She nearly dropped the glass. She had been feeling marginally better…until now.

” _Gabriel?!”_ She ran to him, throwing decorum out the window, and reached out. He looked at her, grimacing, and she grabbed his wrist, jerking his hand away to reveal a raging black eye. “What the fuck _happened_ to you?”

“Chat Noir. Staff,” he said by way of explanation. _Oh, the irony,_ she thought to herself. Adrien had gotten his retaliation and didn’t even recognize it.

She pushed him firmly into the nearest chair by the shoulders and ran to the kitchen for ice, pushing down her residual pain and rising panic. She had promised not to help Hawk Moth, but she could still help Gabriel Agreste.

She practically shoved the bag of ice into his hand. “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?” Her voice was as urgent as he had ever heard it and her hands gently assessed the rapidly swelling area around his eye.

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. _Just some bruises and a battered ego._

She shook her head and stepped back. “You’re as bad as, well, me,” she said, disapprovingly. He sighed and held the ice bag to his face, sinking deep into thought.

_I failed. I failed you again, Emilie. If only they knew…what I want their miraculous for. If only I could tell my son. Adrien. My son._

His brain was spiraling into a whirlwind, his heartbeat quickening with the cresting tidal wave of thoughts.

_Emilie. Adrien._

_Adrien. Emilie!_

_Calm down. Calm._ He looked around the room, trying to find something else to focus on.

_Nathalie._

She was offering Nooroo a piece of fruit from the bowl on the table, the kwami’s food of choice. They took a grape and munched thankfully. Nathalie had always hated how Gabriel treated his kwami. 

He watched her. Only an hour before she had been collapsed on the floor of his secret lair, yet now she was the one taking care of _him._ He realized she always had.

“You have always been my most loyal supporter,” he said as she came over.

She placed a hand to his unbruised cheek and he leaned into it, closing his eyes.

“I would do the worst thing in the world to help you…except hurt Adrien,” she replied. He opened them slightly and looked at her slyly, without moving his head.

“…and model.”

Nathalie chuckled softly. “Was that _humor,_ Gabriel Agreste?” He smiled tiredly, lifting his head as he caught onto something she had said. 

“…You’d do anything for my son?”

“I…I would protect him with my life.”

Gabriel wondered again when their bond had gotten that strong. And when exactly she had become his replacement parent. He supposed it had been at least a year ago…. His troubled expression must have tipped her off that something was wrong, because she put her hand on his.

“Adrien loves you. He…misses his father. A lot. You should spend more time together.”

He glanced up at her, then to the side. “I never feel like I can communicate with him.” Nathalie moved herself so he was forced to look at her. Her blue gaze was intense, and he was having trouble meeting it.

“Just… _listen_ to him. Like another human being.” Gabriel was unsure exactly how to do that.

Nathalie’s adrenaline was wearing off and the aching of her body was returning. She let herself down into a chair near his and sighed. They looked at each other, two battered individuals with a growing connection, united by the desire to see the happiness of one particular boy although with very different methodologies. And slowly, slowly they each drifted off to sleep.

* * *

It was a bad day in a series of bad days. Nathalie’s brief transformation into Mayura had seemingly reignited previously fading symptoms with a new vengeance. She threw up everything she ate, the room spun every time she stood, and frequent coughing fits wracked her body and lit her organs on fire. Sometimes, there was blood. She was probably taking more aspirin at once than she should. Random bruises cropped up on her arms and legs and hips like flowers. And she was tired down to her very bones. She had the sick thought that her body was disintegrating and that soon she would be an empty husk, crumbling to dust at the slightest touch.

She hadn’t managed to get more than a few administrative tasks done in the past few days and was repeatedly kicking herself for the rash decision to use the miraculous again. Adrien had been giving her that look, the one that she hated because it meant that she wasn’t hiding things from him well enough. She decided she never wanted to see it again.

This particular evening was another late one. A cup of cold coffee sat next to her computer, and a packet of saltine crackers. She was struggling through Gabriel’s and Adrien’s events calendars for the next month, and she couldn’t get her brain to focus. She put her head down on the desk and groaned. She had to finish this before she went home, but she wasn’t sure she was going to, and it was already eleven p.m. She grit her teeth as a wave of pain coursed through her.

She was so distracted she didn’t notice Gabriel swiftly entering the room, saying her name twice before she realized he was there.

“What is it,” she said into the desk.

“I have decided you’re not going home tonight.”

“Sir…I need to, after I finish this.”

His voice was sharp. “You don’t need to finish anything. You _need_ to go to bed.” She made a noise of protest. His tone softened to something almost caring. “I…can’t bear watching you like this anymore. And I worry about you going home. Alone. Please, just let me help you…”

“I don’t need help, I just need the pain to stop,” she gasped, not moving from her position. Moving hurt. She felt him stoop near her and thread his arm underneath her knees. _Gabriel. Gabriel, don’t. I can…_. A floating sensation as he took her weight and lifted her from her chair with apparent ease. She turned her face into his shoulder. She hadn’t succeeded in hiding things from him, either. She was failing at everything she did.

_All right. But if this happens again, I’m going to_ deck _you._ She wasn’t sure if she meant it.

Gabriel looked down at Nathalie in his arms as he walked up the stairs. She seemed…paler than usual. And she was so light. Frail-seeming. Though he knew she certainly wasn’t normally, and could probably best him in a fight. Her head bobbed lightly with the rhythm of his footsteps. He found himself in front of his bedroom door and shouldered it open. He let her down on the side of his bed, helped her out of her shoes and blazer and belt. She was drooping. Saying nothing, he tipped her chin up and gently removed her glasses from her face, catching a strand of hair with them. Her eyes met his. A tear rolled down her cheek, which he wiped away with the pad of his thumb.

“What is it?”

“I’m…afraid…” She didn’t need to finish the thought; it was perfectly obvious what she was afraid of. Death. Dying. Or something of the sort. Any rational human being would be, when faced with what she was going through. He sat down next to her and pulled her head to his chest, stroking her hair, feeling a sudden urge to protect her. He had never, ever seen Nathalie cry in all the years she had been his assistant, and it gave him a peculiar feeling. Like someone was squeezing his chest. He felt a few more tears drip from her face onto his hands, but that was all. They stayed like this a few more minutes in silence, only with the occasional quiet sniff, before he let go.

She laid down slowly and he drew the blanket up to her shoulders. Her exhausted state meant it wasn’t long before she fell asleep. The slow steadiness of her breathing comforted him, and the tension in her jaw and brow loosened. At least in sleep she wasn’t in pain.

He wasn’t tired yet, as per usual. He crossed to his drawing desk, which, other than the small liquor cabinet, the bed, and a plain bedside table was the only other piece of furniture in the room. He turned on the desk lamp, making sure it wasn’t too bright as to disturb Nathalie. Having spent many a night sitting at the desk when he couldn’t sleep, he usually spent the time drawing new designs that kept him up into the wee hours. Except it wasn’t new designs that were plaguing his mind. A few absentminded pencil lines sketched the sleeping form of the woman in his bed.

His heart hurt. A sensation nobody else in his life could elicit…except his wife. He watched Nathalie’s face.

_What have you done to me, without doing anything at all?_

He couldn’t lose her. He was sure of it in this moment. And he was struck with a sudden fear that he needed to figure out a solution soon, because a single wish from the miraculous would not save both women.

It was a long time before he turned off the lamp and joined her in the sheets.

* * *

Nathalie awoke in the early hours of the morning, disoriented. Her hair had fallen out of her bun and was strewn across her face. This wasn’t her bed. _Again._ It wasn’t until she turned the other way and saw Gabriel’s sleeping form did she remember. This was okay. She was safe. She shifted onto her side so she could study his face in the dim light from the window.

He lay on his stomach, mouth slightly ajar, wearing a tee shirt and plaid pajama pants on his long legs. His back rose and fell to the slow rhythm of his breaths. With his facial features relaxed and without the dark-rimmed glasses, so many layers and years of worry and sternness fell away, making him appear much younger. A little bit of yellow and green remained around his recently blackened eye, which he had been covering with makeup to hide from his son. She smirked as she noticed for the first time that he had practically no facial hair, and what was there was as silvery blonde as the hair on his head, rumpled from sleep. In this state of vulnerability, he almost looked like…Adrien.

She sometimes forgot that he was just as human as she. It was a revelation that filled her with a strange contentment. Her eyelids fluttered once, then twice, and she once again drifted off into darkness.

* * *

Adrien didn’t know how to make tea, but today he was going to learn, gosh darn it.

He didn’t usually inhabit the kitchen by himself. All his meals were prepared for him. He knew how to use the microwave and generally the stove, as he had once or twice made himself hot cocoa during the winter months and had plenty of experience reheating cold dinners. But today he was going to make Nathalie a cup of tea. He had caught her shivering at her desk earlier—it was getting to be mid-spring, for heaven’s sake—and thought it would be a nice thing to do. Plus, his mother had always enjoyed tea when she had been sick. Something new had happened recently, probably miraculous-related, and Nathalie’s health had once again taken a turn for the worse. He knew it would be useless trying to ask his father, so he hadn’t tried.

He had pulled up a WikiHow article on his phone and was scrolling through it. The process seemed easy enough; heat the water, put the bag in, take the bag out. He found the kettle already on the back of the stove and filled it with water, turning on the burner. While he waited for it to heat, he looked through news articles featuring the previous night’s heroics of himself and Ladybug. Sure, it was cool seeing the pictures of himself pulling stunts, much more fun than regular modeling. But it was her that he was focused on. _If only I could know who she really was. I already love the girl behind the mask so much._

He sighed happily as he scrolled through pictures of her punching akumas in the face. Incredible.

The whistling of the teakettle brought him back to his task. He took it off the burner and held it away from his body, warily eyeing the steam pluming from the spout. He procured a mug and realized he didn’t know where the tea bags were kept. A frenzied search through every cabinet yielded a moderately sized selection of teas. He read the little packages, not knowing enough about different kinds to make an educated decision. That’s what the internet was for. A quick google and he decided on an herbal variety, no caffeine. He poured some water into the mug and plopped in the little white bag, watching the water begin to darken with the color of the herbs. This was neat. Like science class, except you could drink it. He would have to try some.

After a few minutes he removed the sodden bag. It was weird and squishy but smelled pleasantly of spices. Curious, he dipped a spoon in and brought it to his lips. _Bleh._ It didn’t taste as good as it smelled…maybe he just wasn’t ‘adult’ enough to enjoy it?

 _Sugar!_ He suddenly remembered. Milk and sugar went in tea. Another traipse through the cabinets yielded the canister of sugar. Milk was in the fridge. Obviously. 

Now the conundrum of amounts. How much of each? He poured in a dash of milk and watched with fascination the billowing cloud it created in the cup. That was probably good. He decided on two spoonfuls of sugar. That’s what people asked for a lot in movies, right? Putting it on a saucer so he didn’t burn himself with the hot cup, he vacated the area in search of his target.

He found her on the couch in the sitting room doing something on her tablet. She looked up when he entered. He was relieved to see she was looking better than a few days prior.

“Ah, Adrien. I was just about to come find you. Did you finish your homework? I noticed a certain feline superhero was out very late last night.” She looked at him and raised one eyebrow. She looked down at the steaming mug in his hands.

“Hi Nathalie. I made you tea.”

“Oh. Why, thank you.” She took the cup from him. What a sweet gesture. She took a sip and her eyes widened slightly. It certainly was…sweet. She usually preferred black or earl grey over herbal varieties on the occasions when she took tea over coffee, but it was the thought that counted. And he clearly had no experience in how to make tea, which was adorable. She set the mug down.

He sat on the couch next to her. “How are you?”

“Might be better if I didn’t have to order another _entire_ _case_ of camembert,” she said with mock annoyance, swiping the item into her online shopping cart. 265 kinds of cheese in this country and it had to be one that stunk to high heaven.

“But that’s what my kwami eats!”

She shrugged in response. _He sure does. A lot of it._ “Wait…does _your_ kwami eat cheese?” He asked. She shook her head.

“I haven’t found Duusu’s favorite yet. Although they did enjoy coffee a little too much,” she replied offhandedly, filling in Gabriel’s credit card info on the screen.

 _Duusu._ So that was her kwami’s name _._ He had never gotten to talk miraculouses with anyone before. She paused her online ordering and looked sideways into his face. “…please don’t tell your father you know about…this.”

“Oh. Okay. Why?”

_Because then he’ll put two and two together and find out you’re Chat Noir._ “He…wants to protect you.” She knew it had been the wrong thing to say the moment it left her lips. Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Right. Like always.”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay. He still doesn’t trust me.” He sighed and his voice changed from frustration to quivering with hurt. “…Why doesn’t he trust me?”

Nathalie set down her tablet and put a hand on his leg.

“Adrien, I know... Gabriel, he—“Her voice hitched at calling him that in front of the son “—he has a lot of issues he needs to work through. The way he acts towards you is…not your fault. I understand how you feel.” Adrien looked over at her uncertainly, the corners of his mouth turned down unhappily.

“Nathalie, does my father…love me?” She swallowed. Good god, this kid was so many successive punches to the gut. She supposed should be used to it, after so much time spent helping him deal with his father’s cold shoulder treatment. She wanted to reassure him, but there was only one person who should be doing that in answer to this question. And he wasn’t here.

But she knew how _she_ felt.

“ _I_ love you,” she said simply. It was worlds easier than admitting (if. If!) she loved Gabriel because there were no strings attached. Adrien had borne the pain of losing a mother at the same time Gabriel had lost a wife—and Nathalie, her friend—and he was a better soul than either of them despite suffering the same loss. Her eyes burned, and she tried to wipe them discreetly, but it did not escape Adrien’s notice. He held out his palm. She disregarded it, instead crushing him in a hug and kissing the top of his head. She knew she was weakening, and she wanted to give him all her love before she couldn’t anymore.

Adrien was confused. Was this the same Nathalie who rarely changed her expression? Who reminded him about fencing practice and Chinese lessons, kept him silent company during mealtimes and car rides, helped him with his homework? Who…insisted his father go see him at Christmas. Let him have friends at the wax museum without his father’s knowledge. Put her body between him and three akumas. Protected him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it had to be. Nathalie had become his third parent; she had always been. He leaned his head against her shoulder and closed his eyes. Her embrace held the same comforting feeling of a mother’s.

And she was crying. About what? She had said…she understood how he felt. It hit him like a thunderbolt.

_Did Nathalie love his father?_

“You know, I’ve noticed how close you and my father have gotten.”

Nathalie stiffened slightly. _Oh, he knew._ She braced herself for his disapproval.

“…and as far as I’m concerned, you’re already a part of our family.” She relaxed, a mixture of both happiness and sadness.

“Oh, Adrien. Your father is a hard man to love…and he has a hard time showing love. I can never be sure how he sees me.” _Although I can suspect. When he isn’t being an absolute ass, that is._

Adrien shifted his head on her shoulder so he could see her face. “Well, I think you’re pretty,” he said, as innocent as pie. “So maybe he does, too.”

Nathalie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, and she laughed into his hair, tears still on her cheeks.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MamaNath. Has. My. Heart. Although Nathalie isn't super mother-y in the show and does not want to take Emilie's place, I CANNOT accept the idea of her being totally indifferent to Adrien's troubles.
> 
> Next up: Gabriel Agreste. 
> 
> I! don't! Own! Miraculous!


	6. You're Out

Gabriel stood outside Adrien’s bedroom, his fist hovering at the door to knock. Hesitating. He was going to try and take Nathalie’s advice and listen to his child.

This had gone on too long. Adrien needed to know at least some of what he had been doing to save his mother. Both Nathalie and Nooroo had advised him of his son’s growing resentment and although Gabriel normally didn’t listen to anyone, he couldn’t shake the thought that they were right.

_The longer you keep him in the dark about what you’re doing, the harder it will be on him when he finds out._

He didn’t want to hurt his son. More, that was…. This was positively nerve-wracking. He took a breath and knocked.

Adrien opened the door and smiled when he saw who it was.

“Hello, father. What do you need?”

“We need to talk.” He walked into the room and took a seat on Adrien’s couch, gesturing for his son to sit with him. He did as such.

“There’s something important we need to discuss.” He couldn’t meet Adrien’s eyes. “I think about telling you every day, but I can’t seem to find the right words.”

Adrien looked at his father. His elbows rested on his knees in an uncharacteristic break of proper posture. It must be very important. He had a niggling feeling from his earlier conversation with Nathalie.

“I think I already know, father.” Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and his gaze flashed to Adrien’s.

“But…how?”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine with me. You see, I already feel like Nathalie is part of our family. If she can make you happy again, I don’t have a problem with making it official.” Gabriel was confused. This was not what he had expected. Frustration rose in him and he struggled to quash it. He had to listen to what his son said. Like a human being.

“What in the…what do you mean?” He sputtered. Adrien touched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well…I figured after the one evening where you guys were drinking and laughing…that you were…you know.” He realized it was a bad thing to admit as soon as it left his lips.

Gabriel’s face flushed in embarrassment, and his voice was tight with humiliated anger that had gotten the best of him despite his efforts.

“How _dare_ you, spy on me! Nobody could EVER replace your mother. As long as she is in our hearts, she lives on!” He stood abruptly and stalked out, shutting the door hard and leaving Adrien open-mouthed.

Once away, he leaned against the wall and rubbed his temples. Parenting was never easy, but especially when the kid threw him these _fucking_ curveballs….He caught Nathalie approaching from his peripheral vision, her tablet in her hand. He turned away to hide his burning cheeks, reignited at the sight of her. How dare Adrien suggest…

“Sir?”

“Please…leave me,” he said, and strode in the direction of his private room.

Adrien was in the exact same spot he had been when his father left. He was once again _very_ confused. What was wrong with his adults lately? Had his father _flushed?_ He shook his head. Probably a trick of the light; his father didn’t do that. But he still couldn’t believe just how flustered the man had seemed at the mention of that one evening…he shook his head to clear it. Something was definitely up, though. His adults never showed that much emotion.

* * *

The stars were out, Chat Noir noted. It was a beautiful clear night to be roaming the rooftops. His room, however large, felt stifling under the weight of the things on his mind. Nathalie, his father…and this new one. Ladybug and Marinette.

He was beginning to notice that whenever he looked at Marinette, his heart did a little dance. Like the day of the egg drop competition, when she said she couldn’t have done it without him. He had felt mildly useless the entire time because she had everything totally under control with her design talent and ability to create. But to hear her express her appreciation made him feel so lovely and warm inside. It was the same feeling he got when he looked at Ladybug.

Marinette was always there for him. Whenever he had needed to talk, which had lately been a lot, she was available and willing to listen. But could he say the same for his red spotted partner…?

He shook his head. Ladybug was lovely and amazing and always had his back. He couldn’t even count the times she had saved him, saved them, saved the day. He sighed. This was…complicated.

He sang softly to himself.

 _“Little kitty on a roof, all alone without his lady…_ ”

* * *

Marinette was also enjoying the clarity of the night from her balcony. The whir of city sounds began to quiet past sundown to a murmur that had always comforted her. She could hardly imagine living out in the countryside without peaceful sounds to lull her to sleep at night.

Her eyes scanned the skyline and alighted on something curious: a silhouette with two pointy ears and shaggy hair, perched on a rooftop not far away.

Chat Noir. What was he doing out?

Tikki whooshed up to hover by her side and squinted.

“What is up with him?” they asked.

“I don’t know. There’s no akuma activity, so I can’t think of why he’s up.”

“Perhaps he’s doing the same thing as you! Stargazing. Not everyone has a lovely balcony, you know!”

Marinette nodded. It was a thought. Chat’s figure was very still, which felt a little weird to her. He was always such a ball of restless energy, moving, dancing, lunging, fighting.

“Tikki, you don’t think something’s wrong, do you?” The kwami shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine. You could always ask him, though.”

“Yeah, but I cant get to him from here as Marinette. I’d have to become Ladybug. Is that…okay? To use the miraculous for this,” she queried, well aware of the consequences of using her power for personal gain.

“Well, you would be doing it to help someone,” Tikki said.

“You’re right. _Spots on!”_

Marinette transformed and winged her way into the night.

* * *

Chat nearly fell off the roof when his lady appeared unannounced, landing in a crouch at his side with a light thump and shaking him from his reverie.

“Woah!” He yelped and jumped, skittering to the side. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back before he accidentally put his foot over the edge. Their eyes met.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” she said. Being a superhero, he recovered quickly.

“It’s no big deal. What brings you out this late, milady?” He took the hand he was holding and bent to kiss it. She slipped it away. Something was definitely off; although the charming smile was there, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, um, well…I was out on a patrol and I noticed you up here.” _Lame,_ she thought to herself. _That’s not convincing at all._ To her surprise, he just shrugged and sat back down. She joined him, and together they looked at the sky.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if there was a Ladybug constellation?” He mused. “I mean, there’s a cat one, kind of. Leo. And an old one called Felis. But I feel like there should be a ladybug one, too.”

She smiled. “That’s sweet of you.” Another pause of silence that made her feel uneasy. He usually would be filling it with puns.

“Chat Noir.”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on with you?”

His eyes widened and he quickly forced his face neutral. He couldn’t exactly tell her his love troubles, so maybe he could talk about the _other_ ones.

He hesitated. “Milady, do you have…parents? A family?” This took her by surprise.

“Yes. I’m lucky that I have both of mine, and that they love and support me.” She was careful to eliminate details that could clue him into her identity. He nodded sadly, his gaze hovering somewhere in the middle distance. For probably the tenth time, she wondered what his home life was like. “What about you?”

“I have one. And a half, I guess,” he said, thinking of Nathalie. “My father …isn’t usually around, and sometimes it really hurts that he acts the way he does. He doesn’t listen to me, he doesn’t trust me, he doesn’t seem to care. And the person who takes care of me…might not be around much longer.” He realized it as he said it, and his throat got tight. He cleared it. Why was he saying this? It was just spilling out. Had he said too much, would she figure him out? He wasn’t sure he cared in the moment. It just felt good to say things out loud.

Ladybug pursed her lips, feeling sorry for him. She rarely saw what Tikki had termed ‘the sensitive side of Chat Noir’.

“I didn’t know.”

He cracked a lopsided smile. “Yeah well, as you always tell me, our identities must remain secret. I guess it’s the reason I’m out tonight. It’s an escape. Being Chat, that is. And because I’m happiest when I’m with you.” He covered her hand with his. She didn’t feel it necessary to pull away this time. That was a cute thing to say, and it came without the overbearingly flirty attitude that was his normal personality. She found she quite _liked_ his sensitive side.

Silence again, but the air felt clearer this time. They looked at the twinkling stars above the dull orange glow of the cityscape.

He pointed to the sky. “See that clump of stars over there?”

“No…?”

He scooted closer and guided her hand. “I think it looks like a ladybug.” She followed their fingertips and suddenly saw what he was talking about. She gasped. Five bright stars in the same formation of those on her earrings.

“You’re a regular astronomer, Kitty.”

“You know it, bugaboo.”

She didn’t even protest at the nickname.

* * *

Back at the Agreste Mansion, Gabriel was pacing at the back window, feeling similarly caged. He couldn’t get his conversation with Adrien earlier that day out of his mind. _He knows, he knows, he knows. Better cut things off with her before he catches us doing…something else, and makes more assumptions._

But his assistant was incredible and efficient and he was stubbornly resistant to firing her. And she _needed_ him. He found the hardest part to swallow was that Adrien’s words rang true. He had been realizing lately that he _did_ harbor affection for Nathalie. But he had a mission to complete, a promise to his wife had been made, and the desire to see her again was so _consumingly_ strong.

He paced harder. This was complicated and there was no easy way out. But one thing was for certain: Adrien had been spying on him. His frown deepened. The boy had been given too much freedom as of late, and it was starting to give him ideas. In the morning he would tell Nathalie to remove him from public school, he concluded. He knew she was still on the premises somewhere, but it was getting late, and he didn’t want to demand she work past normal hours.

He turned decisively back to the window; his face grim. The stars were nice tonight, he supposed. A blur of movement caught his attention: a black-suited figure travelling from roof to roof, spinning a staff over his head. Gabriel’s eyes tracked the superhero as he came closer. He was only one roof away. Then he made a running leap onto the Agreste mansion and disappeared.

Gabriel’s heart skipped a beat. He ran across the room, flinging open the door into the foyer and racing to a front window. No sign of the masked hero. He tucked his hands behind his back and briskly covered the distance to his atelier.

Of course, this was no confirmation of his previous suspicions…his heartbeat picked up. The figure could have just been too fast for him to catch sight of, and would be bounding away over the Paris rooftops, far, far away.

He needed proof. Video proof. And what caught video of every action happening on Agreste property? _Security cameras._

Gabriel couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. He had said it himself; the house was built like a fortress. If Adrien was Chat Noir, then the security footage would have caught him entering and exiting his window. And since he knew the exact time Chat Noir had appeared…

He went to his drawing tablet and pulled up the camera views that covered the back of the property. His stomach fluttered with a rising tide of nervous butterflies. He looked at his watch, deducing he had seen Chat Noir at around 9:20. Rewinding the camera to few minutes prior, he watched the footage. There he came, over the rooftops. He made the final leap, alighting on the side of the mansion…

… _and entered through Adrien’s window._

Gabriel rewound it and watched again. Although no camera faced directly into Adrien’s room, a flash of green light caught in the camera periphery confirmed a de-transformation.

He clicked to a different view and watched that, beginning to fully comprehend what he was seeing with a rising anger. Rewinding, he attempted to find the moment Chat had left Adrien’s window.

There. Around eight p.m. Perched on the windowsill, leaping out.

He had seen enough. His son was Chat Noir. He stepped back from the tablet, seething.

He had _known_ it, had almost caught him before, and the clever little bastard had slipped through his fingers. Curling his hand into a fist, he resisted the urge to strike the tablet. It wouldn’t do any good. A dull ringing had started in his ears.

Nooroo materialized, sensing his emotion, he guessed.

“Something wrong, master?”

“My _son,”_ Gabriel snarled, “My _own son_ has been working against me this _entire time.”_ Nooroo’s tiny mouth rounded and he didn’t immediately respond. His master didn’t look…quite sane. His eyes were wild with fury in a way that they had never been before, and it scared the little kwami.

“Perhaps it’s a mistake, master?”

“SILENCE, Nooroo. I have seen it with my own two eyes. _My son is Chat Noir.”_ He tapped the broach and a mute Nooroo spiraled out of existence.

Gabriel took a deep breath, suppressing the rising tides into some resemblance of control. His hands itched to rip the pictures of Adrien off the walls, to _break_ things. He looked at the picture of his wife on the wall behind him. Adrien had betrayed him, betrayed Emilie. The ringing in his ears grew louder. He set his posture and exited the room, climbing the stairs toward his son’s room slowly, one step at a time.

* * *

The reason Nathalie had stayed late was because Adrien had asked if she would look over his homework, a history essay due the following morning. It had never been her best subject, but tutoring Adrien for years had sharpened her knowledge. And of course, all the writing she did for her job made her an excellent editor. She sat in his desk chair at his computer, absentmindedly resting her hand to her cheek as she read over his words.

Soon enough, she rolled the chair back from the desk and stood, turning to him.

“Good job. You might want to proofread for a few grammar and spelling mistakes, and check a few of the dates relating to your famous individuals. I know for a fact Debussy died a few months _before_ the first World War ended, not after.”

“Thanks, Nathalie.” He got up from the bed and moved to take her place, raising an eyebrow at her playfully. “How can you be so sure?”

She pressed her lips together and looked sideways. “I took a music history class in college, and…I also ended up learning movement one of the last piece he ever composed,” she admitted.

This was new info. Adrien hadn’t known she knew music. He wondered what instrument she played, but before he could open his mouth to ask, the door banged open.

“ _Adrien?_ ” Gabriel’s voice called from behind the skateboard ramp. The son and the assistant shared a glance. He did not sound happy. Gabriel stalked into sight, heading straight for his son. Nathalie couldn’t help but notice that one of his eyes twitched. He stopped close to Adrien, who reflexively stepped back.

“So you’ve been sneaking out, hm?” His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable underlying buzz of tension, like a live electric wire.

Adrien’s jaw dropped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I—” His voice died when Gabriel leaned down so they were eye to eye. Adrien saw the wild intensity of his gaze and couldn’t help feel a twinge of fear.

His voice dropped. “Oh, I think you know _perfectly well_ what I’m talking about, _Chat Noir.”_

Alarm surged through the boy’s system. He put his hands up in a placating gesture. “No, wait! I’m…not…him…”

Gabriel stood up and brought his smartphone out from behind his back. On it was a picture taken from the security footage, the frame of Chat Noir exiting the bedroom window. He continued walking forward and Adrien scrambled back, floundering. Gabriel’s tone began ramping up in intensity with every step while Nathalie, a statue, watched in horrid fascination.

“My own son. disobeying me _every day_ from right under my own nose…”

Another step.

“…constantly working against me!”

Adrien’s foot hit one of his gaming machines. He was cornered, and absolutely terrified.

“No, _please,_ what do you mean?? it’s not like that!”

“ _Yes, it is._ It’s dangerous outside, you know. I should have _never_ let you go to school! Fortunately, I’ve devised a solution.” He held out his hand. His son leaned away.

“Give me that miraculous.”

“No!” Adrien yanked his hands to his chest to protect his ring.

“ _I am your father and you will do as I say!”_

_“I won’t!”_

Gabriel snarled, jumping back to standing straight. _“Oh yes. You. WILL!”_

He raises his hand over his head as if to strike. Adrien shut his eyes and threw his arms over his head to protect himself, backed up against his gaming consoles with nowhere to go.

Nathalie had seen _enough._

“ _Don’t TOUCH him!”_ She cried, throwing herself in between Adrien and Gabriel as the arm began to descend.

Gabriel screeched to a halt, his hand a millisecond from striking her face. Her raising her voice shocked him to his senses. His assistant had her arms out, shielding the child, her head turned to the side and eyes scrunched shut in preparation to take the blow. The blow he was about to deliver.

Nobody moved a muscle.

Gabriel’s face went slack and his arm quivered as the realization hit him like a truck.

“Nathalie, you…you knew.”

She opened her eyes and hazarded a glance at his face. It was astonished. Betrayed. And she _didn’t care,_ she was so, so angry with him.

She stood up straight and pushed him in the chest, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him stumble backward in the same way he had just done to his son, who was still cowering against the box game.

She exploded.

“I don’t know what’s gotten _into you!_ Even a _three-year-old_ knows not to _hit people.”_ Her walk was murder and her eyes were flames as she continued pushing him backwards towards the door. “And especially _you_ of _all people, Gabriel Agreste.”_

Push. This was not going to be a repeat of the hospital room, she decided; he was not getting a single word in. He sputtered. “What kind of parent treats their child like this? What kind of parent would _hit their son?”_

Push. “I—"

“I don’t want to hear it. That was _indefensible._ Get out. OUT!” She opened the door and shoved him through it, shutting it in his face, then collapsed against it, exhausted.

Adrien unfroze and ran to her. Taking her by the arms, he helped her over to the bed. She slumped, breathing heavily. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple.

“Nathalie…he knows. W-what do I do? Am I going to get to see my friends again??” His voice wobbled. She looked up at him and held out her arms. He fell into them, kneeling on the bed, and she hugged him tightly. Tears brimmed in his eyes and spilled over, and he buried his face in her shoulder. He could feel every breath she took, and although her heart beat abnormally fast, the steady rhythm of her calmed him.

 _I don’t know._ She closed her eyes and held him. She had made her choice, and she was not going to let these actions go.

* * *

Gabriel stood stunned outside Adrien’s bedroom door for the second time that day, Nathalie’s words echoing inside his head.

“ _What kind of parent would hit their son?”_

She was right.

It hadn’t always been this way. Sure, he had never been as good of a parent as his wife, but he was constantly trying. Teaching and nurturing just wasn’t as intuitive to him as it was for her, and he envied how well she navigated talking to, interacting with, and comforting their son. He had loved them so much his heart felt full to overflowing.

After her disappearance, he had cut off all contact with everyone around him in grief for a full week, numb to the very center of his being. From that came a burning desire to fix it, fix everything. It was then he had started seriously attempting to figure out how to work the butterfly miraculous.

The miraculous. All the events currently happening in his life came back to that cursed jewel. Could it be part of the reason behind this change in his temperament? Nothing excused what he had almost done to his son, and he knew that. But miraculouses did in fact affect the personalities of their wearers, and perhaps such effects had bled over into the rest of his life. Outright confrontation and unprovoked violence just didn’t feel like him. To think that he wasn’t entirely in control was a terrifying thought.

And then there was Nathalie. He had been so pleased to learn that the woman he was beginning to love held the same desire to protect Adrien as he, but he never would have imagined she would need to protect the son from his own father. And he had almost struck her instead, which deepened the horrible feeling growing in his gut.

She had known Adrien’s secret. Just a few minutes prior the thought had enraged him, but standing here, feeling the full impact of what had just transpired, he understood why Adrien would have told her over his blood family.

A lump formed in his throat. He didn’t want to be like this. He just wanted to see the love of his life again and protect his son, but he had failed in the worst way possible. Hands shaking out of fear and regret and a million other things, he pushed the door open.

He had skipped out on so much, missed so many opportunities to be there for his son. But he could do it now.

* * *

Nathalie heard it and didn’t look up at the sound of his footsteps. She and Adrien hadn’t moved from their spot on the bed, and she was not about to.

_Bastard._

“I told you to get out,” she growled without opening her eyes. “He’s…he’s not your child anymore.” A small noise from Adrien, still with his face hidden, and an intake of breath from the man she knew was standing a few feet from them. But no response.

 _Right_ in the place where it hurt. He knew he deserved it and didn’t doubt she meant it.

She exhaled in exasperation. “Gabriel, I’m warning you…” Not wanting to let go of Adrien, she lifted her head and looked at him, a mixture of anger and suspicion. And stopped. His cheeks were wet, glasses stowed in his pocket, and he looked entirely like a dog that had been kicked. _Pitiful_ was not a word one ever used to describe Gabriel Agreste, but pitiful he was. Her gaze softened only a moment before she slammed the walls back up, looking away. Even if it was genuine, it was not going to get to her.

He cleared his throat. “Nathalie, please…I don’t want…I don’t want to hurt anyone.” His tone started out practiced evenness, but a tremor in his voice was evident by the end. Perhaps this really was true remorse…but it still didn’t excuse anything. His voice acquired a touch of urgency. “Please, Nathalie. Something has changed. Something is different.” His hand went to his ascot. He couldn’t tell her outright, not with Adrien present, but he hoped she understood. She looked back at him, to his hand at his chest, then his eyes, the fierceness of her gaze unchanged, but a flicker of understanding.

Fear was another emotion she would never associate with Gabriel Agreste. There was so much in his eyes now. Adrien shifted in her arms and she finally spoke again, low and full of venom.

“I cannot express to you how much I _hate_ what you just did. If I had a choice, I’d be leaving and taking him with me.” She nodded slightly to Adrien’s head, who was sitting very still. Listening. She continued. “But if anyone has the say in whether you are coming any closer right now, it’s him. So he will decide, and if he says no, you’re going to get out immediately.” She stated it with such authority that he felt compelled to do whatever she said. An unusual sensation.

Adrien lifted his head. His eyes were red and teary. Gabriel’s chest wrenched again at his son’s misery. He had never seen it as a direct consequence to his actions before, despite all the times he had certainly caused it.... Adrien looked at his father’s guilt-wracked face, all trace of the earlier rage having completely evaporated. He nodded slowly and tucked his head back under Nathalie’s chin.

Gabriel fell on his knees on the bed and wrapped his arms around the two of them. The assistant physically tensed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, _so,_ sorry…” Words could not express. He had made an even bigger mess and was worried he would never be able to put it right. He wept.

Nathalie was vaguely uncomfortable. She had never seen this man cry in the entirety of having worked for him. Not even when Emilie had gone. She remembered that week well. Any emotion he had felt was done so behind a closed and locked door. So to see this level of vulnerability…perhaps he truly meant it. She resolved to let him follow through, prove that he did. But she would be vigilant. Her body relaxed the slightest bit.

They all three sat like that, wrapped around each other, in the great expanse of a room belonging to a child who had everything in the world except what he needed most: his parents’ love. And that was finally what he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubbing hands together evilly but probably just looks like an excited squirrel* 
> 
> Before you're like, "but MaybeMayura, Gabriel wouldn't do that that's not canon," just remember that Gabriel destroyed his entire atelier because his son took a book from him that he already owned a digital copy of. And he totally punches said book in anger during Volpina. I figured if the miraculous is making him mad it wouldn't be a stretch, but everyone's entitled to their opinion, of course!
> 
> Also the chapter title is a pun of sorts on baseball rules. Bah.
> 
> Y'all already know about the disclaimers and the tumblrs if you've made it this far and I LOVE YOU if you have.


	7. Miseria

A girl raced through the hospital corridors.

_Please don’t let it be too late. Please._

She had just gotten off work—a shitty job at a convenience store, but it paid the bills, though barely—and she had someone to see. Finding the room the front desk had told her, she threw open the door, nearly hitting a nurse. Frantically apologizing, she raced to the occupant’s bedside and stopped suddenly, panting. 

_Elias._

He was covered in tubes. Tubes in his mouth, tubes in his arms. A heart monitor beeped from somewhere nearby. His eyes were closed, and the area surrounding both was a frightening shade of discolored purple. A scratch ran down his forearm, and his hairline was caked with dried blood. She didn’t know what the rest of his injuries were, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. The photo her mom had texted of the balled-up car they had pulled him from was frightful enough. And her asshole manager hadn’t let her leave, despite her begging and nearly crying right there at the register.

A nurse she hadn’t hit with the door put a hand on her shoulder.

“He’s stable, but that was quite a wreck he was in. If you’d like, I can give you two some space.” She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and kneeled at the bed. The door shut and they were alone.

They were getting _married_ next week. This couldn’t be happening. They’d have to delay the wedding, and all sorts of nonsense which didn’t matter because right now he was here in a bed in front of her, looking oh so very…damaged. Her eyes welled up and she covered her face in her hands.

Beep. Beep.

“Camille.”

“ _Elias!_ Thank _god_ you’re awake.”

“For now.” His voice was weak and raspy.

She laughed in relief. “Don’t say things like that, you jokester.” He smiled at her ever so slightly.

“Are you wearing your necklace?”

“Always.” She fished it out of her shirt and showed it to him. A locket, and in it was a photo of the two of them together. He raised a hand to touch it, wincing, and frowned.

“Mine got lost in the accident. But I’m glad yours is safe. Because you’ll need it to remember me by.”

Camille protested. “No I wont, because I’ll have you with me. We’ll have our wedding, and a house, and two kids and a dog…”

“Shh.” He quieted her. “You’re here, and that’s all that matters right now. I love you.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m going to…rest now,” he said, and closed his eyes. A faint smile stayed on his lips.

Beep. Beep. Beeeep.

Camille cried out and frantically patted his hand, heart in her throat. _They had said he was stable._ _They said._

“Elias, _no!_ Doctors! Somebody, _anybody_!” She cried out. She heard running footsteps and buried her face in his bedsheets.

_Please._

_Elias._

_…Come back._

* * *

Nathalie kept her self-made promise. She watched.

Over the next few days things seemed to be getting better. Gabriel tried to listen to his son without immediately shutting him down when he asked to go to the park with his friends. They took more meals together, despite the awkwardness of not knowing how to make small talk with one another. And most importantly, there had been no akumatizations. Perhaps Hawk Moth’s reign was coming to an end now that he knew the identity of one of his adversaries. It was just as well, because it continued being a toss-up whether Nathalie woke up feeling fine or in debilitating pain. The evident tension and her personal obligation to supervise combined with the demands of regular work was beginning to wear on her, and it hadn’t even been a week since the incident.

At least it was fine until Gabriel threw open the door to the atelier that afternoon. _Ugh._ She had always secretly enjoyed his flair for the dramatic, but lately it bothered her to no end. The buzz of a headache was starting at the base of her head. She hadn’t spoken to him outside of a professional context in days and noted with a twisted pleasure that he had been noticing.

Then she saw his face. Ghost white, an expression of pure, unfiltered fear. He rushed to the painting of his wife and frantically pressed the buttons, but something told her this was not an akuma situation. No, it was worse.

She sighed with resignation. “Sir, what’s wrong?” She called after him. He descended into the floor on the elevator platform, but she could have sworn he had said “ _time is up.”_ Of course, he wouldn’t even give her the respect of a face-to-face interaction. But that face…she didn’t need to be Mayura to know there were bound to be repercussions from that emotion.

She made up her mind and followed him down.

She knew about the secret chapel even if she didn’t like to visit frequently, though she felt guilty about it. Emilie was alive, that much was for certain, but that didn’t mean she understood any of the how, and it gave her _such_ an unsettling feeling. Not to mention that it might soon be her in that position…. All she knew was that the woman didn’t _quite_ look dead; there was still pink in her fingernails and her skin was still soft and supple. But as she approached the casket where Gabriel was bent at the base, she could see that was not the case now. A pallor had fallen over her visage, her hands had a tinge of grey. As much as she had unwillingly gotten used to her friend’s body in a box, this new development made her stomach suddenly feel sick with dread.

“W-what happened?” She asked, forcing the tremor from her voice.

“They warned me that it could fail after a year. Possibly. I had a year. A year to get her back before she couldn’t hold on any longer,” he said robotically, seemingly to himself. She didn’t think he would be this calm. It was eerie. He was fiddling with something at the base where he was crouching. An open panel. Only then did Nathalie notice the usual dim green lights at the bottom of the box were out. He yanked a wire and they flickered back on weakly.

“It’s not going to be enough!” he exclaimed, alarm punching through his tone. “I have to…I need to…” He stood, his hand to his ascot, and brushed past her as if she wasn’t even standing there, running down the central aisle. Nathalie had a feeling she knew exactly where he was going and proceeded to follow.

There was only one elevator, so she had to wait for it to come down again. Her frustration rose with the level of the platform.

 _I swear, if he thinks this is going to work this time…_ She didn’t want to watch Emilie die, of course. But she was so _done_ with Hawk Moth’s mess. Her head pounded, a reminder of what using the peacock miraculous always did to her. Fortunately, she had no intention of using it. It wasn’t even on her person anymore.

By the time the platform grew level with the secret lair, Hawk Moth had already transformed, and a white butterfly sat in his palm, ready to be infused with the miraculous’ power. But he seemed to be delayed.

“Come on, come on, _come ON!_ You can’t tell me there are _NO_ negative emotions in Paris when I need them most!!” He slammed his staff against the ground.

So he hadn’t found his victim yet. She had some time.

“Gabriel!” She snapped. He whipped around to see her standing there. The white wings fluttered from his hand.

“Nathalie,” he said, and smiled with a malice she knew had not been there a few minutes prior. The light from the window reflected in his eyes in a worrisome way, and a spike of fear shot through her.

But no matter. She pushed it away. After the incident with Adrien, some of the power had been reversed. She no longer cared what she said to her boss’s face.

“Gabriel, stop. You don’t have to do this.” He was stepping towards her. Her uneasiness crept back. Last time he had done this, he had almost struck his son.

“Oh, but I do. I need someone to find Ladybug so she can take me to the guardian.”

_Oh. Well that was new._

Another step. She stood her ground. “What about Chat Noir? The miraculous?” She ventured warily. His eyes left her face for just a moment.

Okay, he was still in there.

“I can’t. My son.”

Step.

 _Calm_. She must remain calm. “Couldn’t you just…ask him to take you there? If you create an akuma, he’ll have to fight it!”

It was like a switch had been flipped. “ _No!”_ He replied sharply. The glint in the eyes was back. “My identity as Hawk Moth _must_ be protected at all costs. If I lost my power—”

“You already know his secret, it’s only fair!”

“That only proved I can’t trust my son! He betrayed me.” He was now only a foot away from, his height towering over her. She struggled to control her rising panic as he put his finger under her chin and lifted it up so he could see her face better in the dim light. This was _not_ Gabriel Agreste _._ Gabriel Agreste didn’t _scare_ her like this. 

“But _you,_ Nathalie. You as Mayura could help me.” Unclenching her paralyzed muscles, she put both her forearms into his chest.

“I’ve made my choice, Gabriel.” She wasn’t going to call him Hawk Moth. Not anymore. “And I’ve chosen to help Adrien, not _you!”_ She pushed as hard as she could on the last word and he shifted back a step, but before she could turn to escape he yanked her wrists behind her back and pressed his other hand to her throat.

She gasped for air and a wave of the cursed dizziness washed over her. He was too fast, too strong for her weakened civilian body. Unsmiling, he released her head for a moment to pull the peacock miraculous out of his pocket and pin it to her turtleneck sweater. The pain of her headache sharpened into a stabbing knife, and his hand was back at her airway.

“Transform, Mayura.” She noticed he hadn’t included the “my dear,” which had always caused her heart to leap. At least, it had.

She wouldn’t let him win. Even if it killed her.

“Never,” she choked out, and smiled in his face. Black spots danced in her vision. She figured it was going end this way. Her only regret was Adrien finding out and being stuck with his madman of a father.

A purple flash from the brooch on his chest made him drop her in surprise. She crumpled to the floor, violently coughing and wheezing and sucking in great gulps of air.

“I…I have never felt such a powerful emotion,” he stammered, returning to the center of the room. Nathalie pushed herself up with her forearms with the last of her willpower.

“If you do this, if you hurt Adrien, I will _NEVER fucking_ forgive you,” she rasped.

“ _Damn_ it, Nathalie! _Get out of my head_!” His voice was shaking.

 _What is happening to you? You never used to be like this, even as…him._ She felt a wave of pain begin to build in her body and grit her teeth. Perhaps his miraculous was hurting him the same way hers did to her, except mentally? It was a thought, but right now was not the time. Whatever it was, any thought of a relationship with him was dead. She would not…do that with a man who hurt her and Adrien like this, she knew. No matter if she loved him.

She looked up to see Hawk Moth grab a butterfly out of the air. Trembling from anticipation or remorse she did not know, he closed it in his fist and it darkened as if ink had stained its wings.

The image of it leaving through the open window was the last thing she saw before her vision went dark.

* * *

_I must find the guardian. I must find the guardian._

That was the thought bouncing around in his head like an echo down an infinite hallway as he waited for his akuma to make contact. Images, too, of his wife’s face, his son…and Nathalie. But he didn’t notice her crumpled form on the floor behind him. He was blind to what was real; he only knew a burning knowledge that he had to save his wife, his beloved.

_I must find the guardian! Ladybug! Bring him to me!_

It felt like the walls were yelling too, adding to the swirling maelstrom inside his mind. The butterflies were a sea of restless living snowflakes, and every time they moved the floor rippled like waves. An uneasy, unsteady rolling motion, and he was the ship tossed in the storm.

He felt the akuma connect.

“ _Ahh,_ ” he breathed. Power suffused him. Power, and the feelings of a tortured soul.

“ _Miseria._ Your loved one is gone? I can give you the power to _bring them back…_ and to let everyone else feel your pain!” His eye twitched. That felt…close to home somehow. He looked down at his shaking hands, confused by their weakness. He was brought back by the girl’s answer.

“Yes, Hawk Moth. Everything comes at a price though, right? Name yours!” He was glad she understood how it worked, but her word choice tapped at the back of his mind.

“ _Bring me Ladybug_ ,” he said in response, and the telepathic connection was broken.

_Everything comes at a price._

_A price._

The butterflies rose up in a tidal wave of white and crashed down, drowning out the rest of his thoughts.

* * *

Adrien was apathetically flicking through Netflix suggestions when his phone went off. Today wasn’t a school day and he hadn’t seen either his father or Nathalie in hours. He missed human faces. He was glad his father was seeing him more often and hoped it would continue, despite how torn and confused he felt about his recent actions.

Picking it up, he recognized the alert that meant an akuma had been spotted. His mother’s face smiled at him from the screen. Funny, there hadn’t been one several days. At least he would have something to do now. He stood.

“Plagg? Plagg! Where are you?” He called to the chaotic being that was his kwami.

A muffled voice sounded from somewhere behind him. “Definitely not in here!” It was coming from the cheese cabinet. Adrien opened the door to see Plagg with a distended stomach lounging on top of a wheel of camembert.

“Plagg, I just got an akuma alert; we’ve got to go!”

“Can’t it wait? I’m sooo full!” Plagg groaned. 

“No time! _Claws out!”_ The kwami grumbled something about indigestion as they were drawn into the ring.

Chat Noir jumped to his windowsill uneasily. This was how his father had found out about him, but there wasn’t an easier way to exit. His staff buzzed with a new voicemail from Ladybug, and he opened it.

” _Chat Noir! I’m at Montparnasse Cemetery. I need you here, fast! This akuma is a powerful one…”_

Spurred by his lady’s voice, he was on his way even before the message ended.

Chat Noir had never liked cemeteries. Just the thought of being surrounded by centuries’ worth of dead people gave him an itchy feeling. Plus, such locations unpleasantly reminded him of the loss of his mother, who he had started to believe to be dead despite never having seen her body.

He shook himself. Not that he wanted to. Lost, not dead. Besides, the cemetery wasn’t that bad. Rows and rows of ornately decorated tombs and carved statues, walkways shaded with trees in the afternoon light, the ghostly figure out of the corner of his eye…he whipped around.

Nobody was there; it had to be a trick of the light. The cheery brightness of the late afternoon sun seemed to mock him and he squinted at it in irritation.

Spying his lady peering out from behind a stone mausoleum, he relaxed. Putting his staff across his shoulders, he nonchalantly strolled over.

“Afternoon, Bugaboo,” he smiled at her. She shushed him and pulled him behind the stone structure, pointing past them. “What—”

Then he saw her.

The akuma was a human figure in a flowing chiton. Everything about her was desaturated to a near paper-white: her skin, her dress, her hair flowing in waves in a breeze that only seemed to exist around her. It took him a second to realize she was floating some centimeters above the ground and he couldn’t see her feet. Did she _have_ feet?

Even her eyes were completely blank, face expressionless, and from them poured a constant river of tears. Her cheeks were sunken and her collarbones protruded as if she hadn’t eaten a real meal in months. Chat thought she looked like a _really_ miserable Greek statue.

“Um, Milady? Why don’t we just…”

Ladybug frowned. “Apparently her name is Miseria, and she’s more powerful than I could take on alone. Did you see those frozen statues all around the cemetery?”

Chat looked around, suddenly noticing a range of greyed out statues contorted in positions of pain and suffering. But the weird thing about them was they were transparent; they faded out of view if you looked at them directly, like steam frozen in human form.

He gulped. “Are those…Parisians??” Ladybug nodded solemnly.

“I’ve been trying to defend anyone she comes across until you got here, but it’s not easy. She’s fast, and her power…it’s like she absorbs them into her. See how she’s got just a bit of color? She was pure white when she first started.” He looked back at the offending figure. She didn’t seem to be doing anything except drifting in the breeze, but those white eyes gave Chat a chill. 

The sound of idle chatter perked his ears. A pair of people were walking down the tree-lined corridor that separated them and the akuma. When she noticed them, her eyebrows lowered and she smirked.

“ _Uh-oh,”_ Ladybug said. “Chat, we need to protect them!” and leapt into battle. The statue-lady suddenly moved with great speed. The couple noticed and cried out in alarm, turning to run in the opposite direction. For the first time, Chat noticed she held a length of silver chain by her side, which with a flick of her wrist extended into a long thin loop. It snared the escaping man around the shoulders and jerked him tight before he groaned in pain and doubled over. The edges of his form blurred and he burst into a smokey grey statue. His partner looked back and screamed. Miseria chuckled. She suddenly looked a few shades more substantial.

“Welcome to my world, where everyone suffers just as I do!” Her voice was like metal grating on metal. She hurled her chain to snare the woman.

Ladybug’s yo-yo zinged and knocked it out of the air in the middle of its trajectory. “Chat, get her to safety!” The feline hero nodded, recovering from what he had just witnessed, and leaped to deposit the frightened woman someplace out of harm’s way.

Miseria whipped around. “ _You_ again,” she snarled at the red-spotted girl. Her chain morphed into a thicker variety with a handle, like a metal bullwhip. She lashed out and Ladybug parried. “I TOLD you to tell me where the guardian is hiding!”

Chat was back and thinking he had missed something. “Wait, hold up. You missed the part about wanting our miraculous for Hawk Moth...?” She whipped around and floated towards him. He spun his staff to shield himself.

“Ooh, so your friend has _finally_ decided to show. That’s not what Hawk Moth needs this time, pretty kitty. And in fact, he only needs the _bug…_ so that means I’m free to do with you whatever I wish! Wouldn’t it be _lovely_ to have you suffer for all eternity!” She lashed out at him with her chain and he parried it with his staff, grunting. Ladybug took the opportunity to scan the area for more cemetery visitors, and launched herself in the direction of another person who was veering too close.

He smirked. “Well, you’ll have to catch me first!” They exchanged a few more blows in rapid succession before she caught his staff with her chain whip. Both struggled to pull the other’s weapon from their grasp. Chat heaved with all his might and managed to yank it from her. She fell back with an exclamation of surprise, quickly recovered, and dove towards it. Growling in annoyance, she turned towards them, ready to attack, before she noticed another civilian in the vicinity. Changing tactics, she launched herself at them.

“No!!” Ladybug yelled and threw her yo-yo, but it was too late. Another Parisian had been stripped of life force, and Miseria was definitely gaining color. “Stop hurting innocent people!”

“And miss the chance to bring back the person I lost? _Never!_ ” Ladybug threw herself into battle again. But she wasn’t winning. Miseria was too quick and powerful. Thinking quickly, Chat readied his power.

“ _CATACLYSM!”_ A nearby tomb crumbled to rubble. Thankfully, it was so old that any body it had housed had disintegrated long ago. The cloud of dust hid them from view and he grabbed her hand and pulled him into a hiding spot to catch their breath and regroup.

Chat Noir pouted. “Why does she only want you? Does she not think I know the guardian? And what’s with this ‘person she lost’?” Ladybug ruffled his hair.

“Don’t worry, Kitty, you’re still important. We’ll figure it out together.” Chat blushed the faintest bit. “Okay, I think it’s time to use my secret weapon… _LUCKY CHARM!”_ Ladybug threw her yo-yo into the air and a red-spotted object floated down into her hand.

“A feather? What am I supposed to do, _tickle_ the akuma? It worked on Miraculer, but I doubt this ice queen has that sort of inclination,” she said, clearly exasperated. Chat Noir’s eyes traced the unusual length of the extravagant plume. Even with its normal color scheme replaced with red and black spots, the form was unmistakeable.

“It’s a peacock feather,” he breathed. Ladybug’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, no! It _has_ to be a warning; it’s the only explanation. Mayura must be close! Come on, Chat, we need to get this enemy out of the picture before a sentimonster shows up!” She started to stand, determined, but Chat caught her wrist on a gut feeling.

“ _No!_ Wait. I think it’s telling us to wait.” She looked at him hard.

“Well you’d better have a solid justification.” He scratched his head and offered a sheepish smile, realizing he was stuck.

“Well…I couldn’t really tell you because it would jeopardize my identity, but…”

He never got a chance to finish his sentence, because the dust had mostly cleared, signaling their time was up. A pair of hands smashed into the roof of the tomb they were hiding behind and the leering visage of Miseria looked down upon them, hair swirling. She must have found more victims despite Ladybug’s best efforts, because she was almost fully saturated. Her dress was rippling in greens and golds and her hair a lustrous black, the image of a restored Greco-Roman sculpture. Only her eyes remained a sickening matte white. Thick tears continued to pour down her cheeks, though she was grinning in triumph.

“No escape now, my pretty heroes. The energy from a superhero would be _just_ the thing I need to obtain the rest of the power I need to bring back my love!”

She lunged at Chat with her chain whip, and he braced for the worst.

* * *

Nathalie slowly regained consciousness. How long had she been out? Seconds? An hour? Her mind was muddy. It was chilly in the secret lair. She rolled over and with great effort pushed herself to sitting. Squinting at the blurry figure in the center, she forced herself to focus. Three Hawk Moths merged into one and her brain clicked into gear.

He was standing very still, head bowed, with his hand to the bridge of his nose, and the akuma was nowhere to be seen. Which meant it had been at large for god knew how long. And Adrien would be fighting it.

She couldn’t let him get hurt. The problem was, she seriously doubted she would be moving from the floor in her current state. Which meant there was only one option.

She groaned and moved so she was kneeling facing away from him. Hopefully he was too locked in inner turmoil to notice what she was about to do.

 _“Duusu, spread my feathers,”_ she whispered.

All the air was squeezed from her lungs as the light travelled up her body. She hadn’t known there could be different _types_ of pain with this damn miraculous. Usually it came in waves, spreading over her like a lead blanket at the dentist, and would go away eventually. This was…crushing. Acute. All her bones felt like they were cracking at once, and knife-like stabs of agony made her fall to the floor and curl up in the fetal position. Tears squeezed from her eyes and a whimper that should have been a scream escaped her lips. She forced her eyes open.

From her place on the floor she could hazily see his position hadn’t changed. So at least he hadn’t noticed, because she wouldn’t be able to put up a fight if he remembered she was there. Unfortunately, there was a job to be done.

With a monumental effort, she willed her hands to work and pulled a feather from her fan, squeezing it in her fist. Infusing it with power felt like a punch to the gut, and she bit her tongue lest she let loose another sound that might betray her. A ragged breath and the amok floated the few meters to Hawk Moth’s staff and made contact. In the same moment, she entered his emotions.

The power of a sentimonster from a madman was intense, swirling. More powerful than anything she had ever felt before. His emotions were there, but they didn’t make sense. It took her a few moments to sort through them, buffeted by the storm. She caught fragments: anger, hopelessness, despair. A large dose of fear. And…protection? Desire to protect…his wife. His son. And…her. She gasped.

Any of it would do, but this last one got to her. She didn’t even have to say the words out loud: _let this emotion be embodied in a powerful protection._

On the street below the mansion a powerful sentimonster materialized, a being created from the very person whose endless well of negative emotions could routinely bring Paris to a standstill.

The most horrifying thing? She could feel part of her energy leave with it, as if she had sacrificed part of her life force to the demands of the miraculous. The crushing, crunching pain dragged on with no sign of subsiding.

Curling up in a shoulder-shaking ball, she willed herself to hold on as she sensed the battle outside. She hoped the two heroes would know what its design meant, because she had nothing left to help them.

* * *

_“NO!”_ Ladybug cried, throwing herself in front of her partner. The chain wrapped around her wrist and she screamed as her form blurred, her energy starting to absorb into the akuma. Intense pain blinded her from everything else as the color started to bleed from her body. Faces of the people she had hurt before as both Ladybug and Marinette—Juleka, Lila, Chloe, Nathaniel, Marc, Luka, _Chat_ —materialized in her mind one by one. She heard her partner yelling something, but it felt very far away. Tears squeezed from her eyes. _I’m sorry,_ she thought to them.

A deafening _roar_ shook the earth. Everyone, including Miseria, looked around in brief distraction. Seizing the opportunity, Ladybug yanked her wrist from the chain and fell panting to the ground just as the most beautiful sentimonster Chat had ever seen thudded onto the scene several meters away.

It was a gryphon with the back half of a lion, but instead of an eagle, its front was a great and terrible peacock with frightening talons and fiery eyes. Twenty feet from end to end, its tail flowed out behind it as it walked towards them with the graceful stride of a powerful being. The monster roared and shook its wings and a thousand shades of green and blue and purple dazzled him so that he had to shield his eyes with his forearm.

“ _No,”_ he breathed. “She promised she was going to stop!” Ladybug looked at him curiously, still regaining color.

Miseria laughed shrilly. He set his face and stepped up to face the threat, readying his staff. Ladybug was counting on him. It was all up to him now.

“You see, young heroes? You never had a chance! I will be vic—”

She was cut off when the massive grypon pounced, snatching her in its talons and taking to the sky. The superhero pair’s eyeballs nearly dropped out of their heads.

They followed its trajectory. After a few moments, Miseria recovered, and with a sneer lashed out with her chain whip at the talon holding her. She fell thirty feet but floated gracefully to her customary ten-centimeter distance above the earth, whipping around in rage as the monster tucked in its wings and dove at her.

“We’ve got to help it!” cried Chat Noir. Now it was Ladybug’s turn to hold him back.

“Hold on, we don’t know anything about it! It could just as easily turn on us! Plus, it seems to be doing pretty well on its own.” She was right. The battle was blow-for-blow, chain whip parried by talons parried by chain, but the sentimonster seemed to have the upper hand. Miseria was being forced backwards step by step. Chat reluctantly sunk back to the ground.

“I just…have a feeling,” he said. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay. I trust you.” He smiled at her in gratitude a moment, before leaning towards her to peck her cheek. She stopped him with a finger to his lips. The sentimonster screamed.

Their heads jerked up just in time to see Miseria, her chain-whip now a chain-lasso, throw her weapon around the peacock’s neck with a yell of triumph and leap onto the back of the beast. It shook it’s mighty head, trying to throw her off, and she cackled.

“ _Nothing can stop me! It’s over, Ladybug and Chat Noir!”_ She said and charged. They dove out of the way.

“ _I think I take back what I said about getting into this fight!!”_ Ladybug called to him. Chat dodged as the monster plowed past them, destroying gravestones and trees alike. Despite the fact that Miseria was riding it, it didn’t seem like it was under her control. In fact, it seemed like she was barely holding on, with gritted teeth and no more extra focus to even yell taunts at them.

They readied their weapons, about to close in at a nod from Ladybug, when it reared again, roaring. Catching a talon under the length of chain around its neck, it flexed its shoulder to flick it outwards and snapped the restraint, simultaneously launching Miseria from her seat, screaming.

Ladybug’s eyes snapped to the flying girl in the process of detransforming, the escaping black butterfly, and the broken chain, which had morphed back to a small silver necklace and clattered to the stone path.

“CHAT! GIRL!” She barked and dove for the akuma. Chat launched himself into the sky with his pole and caught the flailing figure mid-somersault, no longer an emaciated statue but a normal human with streaming red hair and freckles. He landed and helped her down, where she collapsed. Ladybug reappeared at his side, having repaired everything with the lucky charm…except the sentimonster. Both of them stood dumbfounded as the great beast turned to them, all malice gone from its large golden eyes, and lowered it’s front legs in what was unmistakably a bow. It promptly disintegrated into a cloud of blue smoke that scattered in the breeze.

“Well that was the easiest fight I’ve ever had. Care to explain, kitty?” Ladybug asked with a hand on her hip. Chat avoided her gaze.

“Later…we’ve got someone to help.” He gestured to the girl kneeling on the ground, looking frantically around with a hand fluttering at her neck.

“My locket! Where did it go?!” She cried. Chat retrieved the article from where it lay in the dust and wiped it clean before offering it to her. Camille grasped it tightly and tears leaked from her eyes.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost it. I’m so sorry.”

“What happened that caused you this much...grief?” Ladybug asked quietly.

She choked. “My…my fiancée just died. They brought him in from a car crash and my manager wouldn’t let me leave and he died in front of me…and this is what I have left from him.” Both of the heroes’ hands flew to their mouth in shock. _The person she lost._ And what a horrible way to have it happen. Chat’s heart went out to her. He knelt by her side and put a hand on her shoulder.

“I…might understand how horrible that feels. I lost my mother just last year.”

She looked at him with watery hazel eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah…It gets better, but pain never completely goes away. There’s support groups out there for you if you need to talk.” He offered her a half smile. She wiped her eyes and accepted his proffered hand to stand.

“Thank you so much. But I really must get going.”

Chat’s ring flashed a warning. Ladybug noticed and stepped forward. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go,” she said.

“Cochin hospital?” Camille queried, and they were off.

At their departure, he ducked behind a tall mausoleum and detransformed. His mind immediately went to the sentimonster and its creator, and his chest seized. _Nathalie._ He took off running, fear pumping through his veins. He wasn’t about to lose another person he loved if he could help it.

* * *

Hawk Moth yelled with deafening fury. How could this have happened? Miseria had been one of his strongest akumas ever. And now he didn’t have a way to get to the guardian, to help his wife, his…

A white feather twirled out of his staff.

He paused, traced its motion with his eyes as it fell to the floor, and his tempest sank with it. A feather. From Mayura. Who had created that monster that had suddenly appeared and gotten rid of his akuma. Who…wasn’t supposed to be creating any more monsters.

All of the puzzle pieces slowly fell into place as a flash of indigo light behind him made him turn and see clearly for the first time the crumpled form of the woman behind the mask.

“No. No, no no no no…!” He detransformed and rushed to her side, panic rising in him. She looked so terribly small balled up on the floor, arms clutched to her chest and eyes shut, shaking with chills and fever.

“What did I _do_ to you. What did I DO?” He took her head in his hands. There were bruises on her throat. Did he…had he…? He couldn’t remember. She coughed and opened her eyes slightly, dim blue crescents visible beneath her lashes.

“Gabriel. This is the last time…the last time I use the peacock…” she whispered. He drew her close to him, trying to warm up her chilly hands.

“Oh, my Nathalie…” His eyes burned, and a tear dropped from his face.

“Listen, I can’t bear…to see you do this anymore…hurt your living son…for sake…of your dead wife…” She was breathing too fast. Way too fast.

“I know. I _know.”_ A lump formed in his throat. He had to get out of this mess somehow. He was sacrificing this woman who cared for him even though he was hurting her in return, for someone who he knew might not make it back. He could no longer pretend.

“The last time, Gabriel…” A tear ran down her cheek, and her body went slack. Gabriel’s heart nearly beat out of his chest. More tears fell from his face and he almost shook her but didn’t, instead placing his fingers to her wrist. Her pulse was sluggish, but present, so he had some time. He would call Dr. Durand immediately once he got out of this cursed lair. He willed her to hold on, wished he could transfer her some of the adrenaline he felt coursing through his veins.

Readjusting her body in his arms as gently as he could, he stood and made for the elevator.

* * *

He had exited the atelier and was ascending the stairs towards his bedroom at a rapid pace, trying to keep Nathalie from slipping from his arms. He needed someplace private to dial the doctor, and he knew Adrien wouldn’t dare enter the sanctuary of his room. Just as he got to the top, Adrien’s door flew open with a bang, stopping Gabriel in his tracks. This is what he had been afraid of. Having to explain things to his son with the best—the _only_ —person who knew how to bridge the gap unconscious in his arms.

Adrien rushed over, his face taut with fear, focused only on Nathalie. And just how…dead she looked. Her face was very pale, her chest barely moved.

“Father, _why??_ ” He looked up into his father’s face, a mixture of despair and betrayal. “How could you have let her do this?”

Gabriel sucked in a breath to steady himself. “Son, there’s something I need to tell you about Nathalie.”

“ _Father._ I already know she’s Mayura.” A beat of silence as Gabriel struggled to work out what to say. If he knew that, how long would it take to figure out that his own father was Hawk Moth? He supposed he had personal experience on the blinding effect that grief could have.

Adrien’s lip wobbled. “And now she’s dying, just like you said she wasn’t.”

“Adrien, there’s no need to be so worried. I’m heading upstairs to call the doctor this minute…” His voice was uncharacteristically unsteady. The child backed away, shaking his head, then ran into his room before he could start crying again in front of his father. Gabriel couldn’t help but feel guilty at his latest failure to connect.

He could have sworn he heard the voice on the other side of the door choke out, “ _I want my mother back.”_ Gabriel wasn’t sure which one he meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so TEA I hadn't intended for Gabe to get THAT crazy but you know what sometimes things happen in life that you don't expect. And writing his internal thoughts was so fun. 
> 
> Disclaimer, tumblr, barely intelligible babbling, you get the point.


	8. The Master

Adrien sat with his back against the door and his head in his knees for a long time, trying to control his breathing.

In, out. In…out.

His father didn’t know how to deal with emotional situations, and the person who did was—

In… Out… His nose burned, threatening tears, and his pulse quickened in distress.

Who could he talk to? Who else was there? He didn’t feel comfortable letting too many people into that side of his life. Resting his chin on his knees, he unlocked his phone and scrolled through his contacts. His finger paused over Marinette’s icon. Would she answer?

_She did last time._

He clicked the ‘call’ button. The phone rang three times, a fourth, then went to voicemail.

_“Hi, this is um, Marinette! Leave a message at the beep! Beeeep!”_

_No._

He clicked ‘decline’, and then ‘call’ again.

On the third ring, the line connected.

_“Adrien! Hi! I’m so sorry, I was out on the balcony, and I heard my phone ring and I couldn’t find it, and funny enough, it turns out it was under my—”_

“Marinette, thank god. Do you have a few minutes?”

“ _Oh, um, of course! Always for you… I mean! Yeah. I do,”_ she babbled. “ _What’s wrong?”_

It felt like someone had broken a dam, and the words just spilled out.

“It’s Nathalie! She’s gotten worse, and I’m really afraid she’s not gonna make it because my father let her use the peacock again even though I asked her to promise not to because it’s hurting her and I couldn’t save her….He won’t let me see her and I just _don’t know what to do,”_ He cried in anguish.

Silence on the other end. He could almost feel the gears turning. He mentally ran back over his train of thought and paled over all the possibly revealing things he had said.

 _“Adrien…can you meet me at the park? Like, in half an hour? I…think I need to tell you something.”_ Her voice sounded odd. Adrien wiped his eyes.

“Yeah, uh. Sure?”

 _“Okay, great. See you BYE!”_ The line went dead. Adrien grabbed a sweatshirt for the cool night air and shoes. Plagg whooshed into existence, but didn’t say anything, which was decidedly not like them. Together, they exited the mansion out the front instead of the window, because it wasn’t like anyone was there to stop him.

* * *

Marinette thanked her lucky stars her parents went to bed _super_ early. They had to be, since bakers rose before the sun and worked full days. She grabbed a container of cookies and stuffed it into a blanket she was carrying. Tikki materialized.

“Adrien sounded really messed up, huh,” they mused. Marinette was thinking. Some of the things Adrien had said were jumping around in her head.

_Peacock._

_Promise._

_I couldn’t save her._

It reminded her of something a certain boy had said earlier during the fight with Miseria…a boy who had been avoiding some of her questions as of late: _“She promised she was going to stop….”_

“Tikki… I think…”

The kwami smiled. “It’s okay, Marinette.”

“…is it okay if I tell him mine?”

“Follow your heart…and your head. It might be the right time.” They kissed Marinette on the nose. The girl giggled and left the bakery, softly closing the front door so it wouldn’t jingle and disturb her dear parents.

* * *

Adrien’s leg jiggled nervously as he sat on the park bench, watching the last remnants of sunset fade in the sky. He knew he had said a little too much, and Marinette was too smart to not have noticed it…

“Hey.”

Adrien jumped, nearly falling off the bench. “M-Marinette!” She smiled and sat down next to him.

“Cookie?”

“What?” He still hadn’t fully recovered. “Oh, sure.” Of course she would bring baked goods, just like before. This time they were chocolate chip, probably baked that day. Delicious.

They listened to the nighttime sounds of the city as they munched.

“I’m sorry about Nathalie.”

Adrien didn’t meet her eyes. “Thank you for listening though. I’m sorry if I disturbed you from your work or something.”

Marinette waved it away. “Awe, it’s not a problem. Besides, that’s what friends are for, right?” Adrien nodded, absentmindedly noticing that she wasn’t stuttering as much as she might normally. Marinette looked out at the fountain in the center of the park and they listened to its calming sounds. Adrien spent a few moments studying her face. The way the streetlamps that were just flicking on made her hair shine, her lovely blue eyes. He felt a warmth tinge his cheeks and looked away again. He had to tell her his secret. She had probably already figured it out anyways.

They looked towards each other in the exact same moment and their eyes met. “I have something to tell you,” they said in unison, then laughed nervously, each with a hand to the back of their head. Their eyes slid back and noticed what they were doing, and they laughed again, harder.

“You first,” Marinette encouraged. Her eyes sparkled. Adrien tried to find the right words. “Well, ah, I accidentally said some things I hadn’t meant to earlier, and I don’t know if you’ve already figured it out, but…”

“…you’re Chat Noir.” She finished, dropping her eyes. Adrien’s heart was pounding as he nodded. _Does she…is she disappointed?_ “Yeah, I kind of guessed because of some things you said.”

“Is…is that okay?”

“Yeah. I’m still coming to terms with it a bit. And I’m kind of mad I never realized it before, actually! You two just seemed so…different. Ha.” Relief flooded Adrien’s senses. It was okay.

She continued. “But the more important thing is: I might know how to help Nathalie…”

“Wait, what?”

“I kind of figured out she was Mayura, because of that one time before class with what you said about the jewelry. And then you saying the bit about the peacock today just confirmed it. Which then lead me to the fact that you were Chat because of some other thing you had said and…” She cleared her throat. “Well, point being, we can take her to Master Fu.” Adrien’s brow creased in puzzlement. How did she have such an extensive knowledge of miraculouses? And know Master Fu? Only one other person he could think of knew that man. No. She couldn’t be.

Marinette pressed her hands together in her lap and squeezed her eyes shut. “You see, I’m…Ladybug.”

Adrien scrambled back along the bench, making unintelligible noises. “I know! I know, it’s a lot to take in,” she said, making placating gestures with her hands. “It was just only fair for me to tell you. Because we’re partners, after all.” She looked over at him nervously.

He pointed at her. “You’re…you’re. Oh my god. Wait, no, this makes sense, actually.” His hand moved to point to her pigtails, then he face-palmed. “Oh my god. I’m the dumbest cat there is.” Marinette giggled awkwardly. “Wait, so, you answered my poem? And have been in my bedroom? And saved my butt so many times! And this means Ladybug actually _did_ show up for my rooftop date!“ He smiled his sweet smile. “Wow. I’m so glad its you, Marinette. I’m so happy that YOU’RE the girl I’ve had a crush on this entire time!” Realizing what he had said, his eyes bugged and he slapped his hand over his mouth, turning a shade of red that would equal the best of Marinette.

Now it was her turn to look incredulous. “Wait. You have a crush on… _me_? Oh, well, um. I guess…since you’re Chat, and he likes Ladybug, and _I’m Ladybug_ …” She groaned. “Well, I hadn’t gotten that far, I guess. This is _so confusing!_ ” She buried her head in her hands, brain exploding.

Adrien laughed nervously at her frustration. “So…what does this mean? I know Ladybug—I mean, you, I guess—don’t really have a thing for Chat Noir. But…Adrien?”

She turned towards him, still resting her chin on her hands. There really wasn’t a point in hiding it anymore. Her cheeks were tinged pink. “I mean, it’s not quite like that…just a few nights ago on the roof I started to realize that you—er, Chat Noir, wasn’t so bad once you— _he_ dropped the alley cat routine…” She huffed in frustration at the difficulties of words. “I mean, isn’t it obvious, though? I’m a complete _doofus_ around you at school! I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you all year. That I…I like you.”

He put his face up close to hers. She thought his sly expression very much like his superhero alter ego. “Well…I’m happy to know the feeling is mutual. Partner.”

Marinette’s eyes darted around. They were alone. She had just found out the boy she was in love with liked her back…although in a very different way than she had dreamed. She was still a bit confused about how to reconcile Adrien with his secret identity, but damnit, she had been wanting to do this for _so long…._ She closed the very minimal distance between them and their lips met. _Oh god she was kissing Adrien Agreste, she was kissing him …_. She pulled back, worried that he hadn’t responded.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t be,” he said, his stunned response barely more than a whisper. He pulled her to him, closing his eyes, and kissed her back, hesitantly at first, then a little more. She put her hands in his hair and relished the softness of his lips and the bubble of giddiness in her chest.

When they pulled away, neither of them wanted it to end. They stared at each other until Adrien half-smiled. “Sorry, that was…my first kiss? I guess.”

“I thought you’d kissed Chloe?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Only in her dreams.”

“WELLLL, it’s about _time,”_ a nasally voice sneered from behind them. They whipped around to see PLagg with his arms crossed, smirking, and Tikki close by.

“Plagg, you fart, don’t _scare_ them!” Tikki chided, making to smack them. Plagg evaded them, purring.

“I’m just saying, Sugarcube, it took them long enough!”

“Plagg!” Adrien sounded affronted. “You knew the entire time?? To think of all the camembert I feed you!” Marinette and Tikki giggled and looked at each other.

“You did the right thing, Marinette,” Tikki smiled sadly.

Despite how happy Marinette was, there was an undercurrent of dread in the girl’s heart. Now that they knew each other’s secret identities, it was only a matter of time…

* * *

It was later that night. Adrien had returned unnoticed, the happiest he had been in a while, after he and Marinette had placed a call to Master Fu (“be careful, you two!”). The two of them texted like mad for a long time from their respective bedrooms about what was going to happen next.

Dr. Durand had come and went. Nathalie was stable; her breathing was back to normal and her fever had subsided. But the purple-haired doctor had gravely informed Gabriel that he would need to do something, and quickly, about the miraculous side of the issue, lest Nathalie never wake again.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed where he had been for some time. No alcohol tonight, and probably no sleep; he felt an intense need to stay up and make sure she would pull through. And it wasn’t like his racing mind was going to quiet enough to let him rest even if he wanted to.

This felt familiar.

His eyes trailed over her form, laying on her side, wrapped up in a blanket on his bed. Her hair was a mess. He willed his muscles to move, aching from sitting in one place for so long, and gently unwound her hair from its bun, smoothing errant strands behind her ear, and tied it back into a ponytail so it wouldn’t get in her way.

Was this what love felt like? It had been such a long time. And his love for Emilie had been so different. It was more of a whirlwind, hungry, ostentatious, just like their relationship. This quiet love, this odd feeling of grounded-ness, was a rare feeling. So he wasn’t sure.

How could two people hold one heart? Without hurting one of them, that was. He didn’t think it was possible to achieve, but the choice was now presenting itself as a very real problem. His eyes burned for what felt like the tenth time that day. He couldn’t figure out when he had gotten so emotional. This wasn’t useful.

A quiet knock on the door made him start. _Why is he still awake?_

Gabriel supposed it was because the person who usually made sure his son was in bed on time was incapacitated, and he was momentarily frightened that he didn’t know his own son’s bedtime. He got up to answer it.

Opening the door revealed Adrien, phone in hand, and his eyebrows drawn together nervously. He was a bit apprehensive about initiating conversation with his father, but it had to be done. For Nathalie’s sake.

“Father? My friend…Marinette. I called her. She knows someone who can help Nathalie.”

Gabriel’s brow lifted in surprise and instant understanding. _The guardian!_

“When is a convenient time for her schedule?” Business phrasings die hard, he guessed.

“Tomorrow morning?”

Gabriel nodded in assent. “Consider it done, then.” Adrien turned to go, albeit sadly. Gabriel felt a twinge of something in his heart: gratitude.

“Adrien.” The boy turned back to him. “Thank you.”

His son smiled at him as he left the room, truly smiled, for the first time since that evening incident he didn’t like to think about. It felt like a tenuous truce that he didn’t desire to break.

Gabriel’s mind was excellent at puzzles, and he knew one thing for certain when he shut the door: the true identity of the other superhero of Paris. But right now he was startled to find that for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care. He was laser focused on something—someone—else. He immediately went back to sit Nathalie’s side, anxious that something could have changed in the few minutes he wasn’t watching her and breathed a sigh of relief when he found he was wrong.

He pressed his lips to her hair for a long moment. He was going to see the guardian at last. The twittering of his mind slackened slightly, and despite his insistence of constant vigilance, he dozed for a little while sitting straight up on the bed.

* * *

There was no school when the morning dawned, as it was a national holiday, so Adrien again found himself outside his father’s bedroom door. He wasn’t entirely comfortable, but there was nobody else to come and get the man to head to the guardian, as Gorilla had been given the day off. He took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in.”

Adrien pushed open the door and stepped into a room he had never been allowed in. It was not the master suite his parents had shared, instead a guest room his father had taken permanent residence in after his mother’s disappearance. He couldn’t help but notice how sparsely furnished it was, in direct contrast to the rest of the house. The bed that Nathalie currently occupied—his heart clenched at the sight of her sleeping form—was the main focus point in the room. He glanced at the desk, holding a case of drawing implements and a sketchbook turned to a fresh page. His father stood at the dresser, doing something with a hexagonal jewelry box. It was made of light-colored wood and was about the diameter of a dinner plate. Adrien had never seen it before. Gabriel shut the lid and noticed where his son was looking.

“It was a gift from your mother. Beautiful, isn’t it? A lovely place to hide one’s treasures.” He thumbed the clasp, his voice strangely light. Adrien wasn’t sure how to respond and nodded.

“I’m ready to go when you are, father,” he said. Gabriel hummed his assent and straightened his ascot. Adrien turned to leave, but a burning question made him stop.

“Father?”

“Yes.”

He absentmindedly touched his ring. “If you knew I was Chat Noir, why didn’t you ask if I knew the healer?”

Gabriel was caught off-guard. He had not had the courage to broach the subject of Adrien’s alternate identity yet, but here his son was so casually and bluntly doing so. Exactly like himself. His eyes fell on the boy’s ring. It felt like he had missed a lot of things about his son in the past year, and here he was standing before him: a few inches taller, a smidgen more confident, on a fast track to becoming an adult.

“I…hadn’t thought about it hard enough, I suppose,” he stumbled lamely. Adrien’s eyes dropped. Guilt flooded Gabriel’s veins, and he took a step towards his son. His throat burned with the things he didn’t know how to say.

“I should think about it more, I believe,” he tried. “After all…you’ve grown a lot this year, and I can’t believe I’ve been so blind to it.”

He reached out to awkwardly pat his son’s shoulder, but Adrien beat him to the punch and threw his arms around his father’s waist. Gabriel didn’t know where to put his hands for a moment, and finally just bent and embraced the child. His hair smelled of soap and perhaps a hint of…camembert cheese? Perhaps a bit strange, but he supposed not the worst combination ever heard of for a teenage boy.

It was…nice to be able to communicate his deeper affections without need for so many difficult emotional words. He was eternally glad for his son’s forgiving heart, as he knew he was not the easiest parent to have. This embrace had no calculation behind it like the one at the fashion show; this one felt like mending.

* * *

The Agreste car pulled up quietly to the Dupain-Cheng bakery promptly at seven, but Marinette was already waiting. Punctuality was not one of her strongest qualities, but something about the morning’s activities and the company she would be keeping made it hard to get distracted.

Adrien jumped from the backseat to hold open the passenger door for her, giving her a flash of his wonderful smile, and she slid in with one of her own. Nathalie was tucked into blankets in the backseat with Adrien, and Marinette was riding shotgun, that meant the driver was—oh.

“ _Bon matin_ , Mr. Agreste,” she said with a hint of tightness, putting on her seat belt. He put his foot on the gas pedal and the car sped away. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him drive a car. As a matter of fact, she had rarely ever seen him even leave his _house._ But he was an adult, so she supposed he knew how.

“You’ll have to give me directions, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he said evenly.

“Oh, um, of course. Take a left on Place des Vosges—just up ahead.”

“Marinette.” Adrien sounded urgent. “What do you have in that box. It smells delicious.” The girl suddenly remembered the white cardboard bakery container she was holding in her lap.

“Oh, haha. Breakfast!” She said brightly, opening it and handing Adrien a croissant. His eyes rounded and he reverently took it from her hand. It was flaky and fresh and still warm from Tom’s morning batch. _Amazing._

“Would you like one, Mr. Agreste?” She offered one the driver coolly.

“No thank you. Turn?”

“Left on Rue de Birague. Then Rue Beautreillis.” He put on his signal. She studied his face. He had some serious undereye circles and although his face was its usual stoniness, the redness of his eyes betrayed a long and sleepless night. She suddenly wasn’t sure she was comfortable with him driving anymore.

Or comfortable with him in general, really. She didn’t trust him because of how he treated Adrien and wanted him to know it. She got the sense it was a mutual feeling, that he was jealous of her and her friends’ relationship with his son.

She saw his eyes flick to the rearview mirror for a long moment and followed his gaze as best she could to the unconscious woman in the backseat. _Interesting._

“Miss Dupain-Cheng.” She jumped a bit, thinking he had seen her watching. 

“Sir?”

“Directions?”

“Right! No. Yes. It’s two rights, a left, and get on Quai des Celestins.” He nodded, and she fell back into her train of thought, nibbling a croissant as the car drove along the bank of the Seine.

So Nathalie was Mayura. Adrien was Chat Noir. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about either of those revelations, but it explained some connections. But the enigmatic designer? She watched his eyes flick to the backseat again. He obviously knew what was going on and seemed to harbor some semblance of affection (she almost scoffed at the idea of him having a heart) for Nathalie. Who was Mayura, who worked with the biggest supervillain in Paris…. It begged the question: what if there was more than one… _two_ miraculous holders in the Agreste household?

A shudder ran through her. They had proved Mr. Agreste wasn’t Hawk Moth. Hadn’t they? If he was, then she was sitting in a car with their biggest enemy, not even an arm’s length from being able to fulfill his greatest wish of obtaining her miraculous…

And there was Adrien to think about. Both miraculous in the same car. He had delightedly finished his breakfast and was dutifully checking on Nathalie, definitely not thinking the same things she was. Adrien would be absolutely crushed if this was true. She hoped to god she was wrong.

Looking out the front window, she pointed to an apartment complex on their right.

“That’s it. I think you can park on the street.” He pulled into a space and turned off the car. Adrien’s head appeared as his father exited the car.

“Thanks for breakfast, _milady_.” He winked, obviously enjoying their new shared secret, and she shushed him, smirking. No sense in accidentally revealing themselves.

Gabriel gathered Nathalie into his arms and the group ascended the stairs towards Master Fu’s apartment.

* * *

Never before had Marinette seen so many people at once in Master Fu’s house. Three kneeling in a row that went Gabriel-Adrien-Marinette, one still unconscious on the mattress pad in the center of the room, one standing and busily adding ingredients to a bowl. Marinette couldn’t help feeling uneasy noticing the tablet containing the translated grimoire on the dresser and remembering that Gabriel owned the original; not to mention the presence of the miraculous box hidden in plain sight. She glanced at her suspect, who was expressionlessly staring at Nathalie. Adrien put a hand on his shoulder, and he didn’t react.

Fu was prepared. He walked over and set a wooden bowl with a glob of suspicious looking crushed plant matter in the bottom. In a businesslike fashion, he procured a thin silver needle from seemingly nowhere and picked up Nathalie’s hand. Gabriel visibly stiffened as he pricked her finger and added a single drop of blood to the bowl, folding it in three times with a spoon before scooping out a pea-sized ball.

“This is only a temporary remedy,” he said seriously as he placed it under her tongue and gently closed her mouth. “It will help her but not totally heal her. I do not have the knowledge or power to do that.”

Gabriel’s voice sounded slightly hoarse. “Is there anyone who does?” Master Fu scratched his chin absentmindedly.

Wayzz appeared. Marinette noticed Gabriel didn’t flinch in surprise at the sight of him, like most normal people did when meeting an otherworldly being for the first time. Her unease grew as the kwami spoke.

“We can’t discount the miraculous temple that reappeared after Feast was defeated, right Master?” Fu nodded.

“Yes, yes…they would know what to do. I once witnessed them fix a broken miraculous when I was a young apprentice. You’ve been to Tibet?” He smiled at Gabriel, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Once, many years ago. With my wife. And Nathalie,” he said gruffly. All eyes fell to the woman curled on her side in front of them. She already had more color, and the knot of tension between her eyebrows had melted away.

Gabriel brought his wallet out of his suit jacket pocket. “How much do I need to pay you?” he said, flipping it open.

His vision tunneled. He rarely paid for anything in person with the advent of online shopping in the last few years and had nearly forgotten about the picture he always carried in it. _Her_ picture. A longing nagged at his brain. Fu said something that he didn’t hear, wallet open in his hands.

_Never at that cost. Never at that cost again._

Gabriel breathed in, still looking at the picture. “Could this…temporary cure. Could it work for my wife?”

Even the Master looked surprised. Marinette, who had been silent practically since they had entered, looked over at him resentfully.

“Wait. You know where she is?”

“ _M-mother?_ ” Adrien breathed, eyes wide. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. The shock in the room was palpable. Master Fu recovered first.

“Of course. I can concoct for you a fresh batch,” he said, warily. Gabriel met his eyes and nodded. Fu looked into them, a suspicion growing in his head, and at the children, noticing Marinette’s distrustful expression. He cleared his throat.

“Now I have to tell you something none of you want to hear,” he said, dropping his eyes. “Since you all know each other’s secret identities, you each need to return your miraculous.” He looked sternly at the three of them in turn. Protests from Adrien, sadness from Marinette, stillness from Gabriel, whose eyes didn’t seem to be focusing. His mouth was pressed into a hard line. “I’ll give you a few minutes to… say goodbye.” Fu said, gesturing to the door.

Adrien and Marinette looked at each other, hands still clasped, and got up slowly. One went into the kitchen, the other the hallway outside.

Adrien shut the door and stood on the entry mat as Plagg zoomed out from his shirt. They plastered themself to Adrien’s chest.

“You’re the best Chat Noir I’ve ever had, Adrien! I don’t want you to leave!” Adrien chuckled lightly and held the kwami, but only because if he didn’t laugh he felt like he would cry.

“…Only because I feed you whenever you want.”

“No…I’m serious! It’s not just about the cheese, even though I don’t know what I would do without cheese. I’m going to miss you.”

Adrien squinted at his companion’s glowing green eyes. “Plagg…are you _crying?”_ The kwami’s pupils shrank and they flew up into the air and crossed his arms.

“No…I’m too tough to get all mushy gushy like that. Of _course_ not,” they said defiantly. Adrien wiped his nose and laughed again.

“Are you sure? Because I have something for you.” He brought the plastic bag of cheese from his other shirt pocket, which contained practically an entire wheel of camembert. Plagg flew close to it.

“Sweet cheesus, _I love you_ ,” they whispered to the bag’s contents. And perhaps to Adrien too, but they weren’t about to admit it.

Marinette cupped Tikki in her hands, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling shelves of mysterious jars and the spicy aroma of unknown herbs. Both of them were crying unashamedly.

“Tikki, what am I going to do without you?!” Marinette wailed in despair. “You’re so much more than just a kwami to me…”

Tikki’s big eyes were shining. “You’ll do as you’ve always done. Be b-brave and smart and strong and k-kind…there’s a reason you were chosen to be Ladybug. Those things were already in you even without super-powers. And you have Adrien now!” She flew close to Marinette’s face and kissed her on the nose. “Besides…I think we’re going to see each other very soon,” they said meaningfully.

“I love you, Tikki.”

“I love you, Marinette.”

The two doors opened at the same time, and Marinette and Adrien walked back into the room like two robots, eyes tracing the wooden planks of the floor. One by one, they placed their miraculous in Master Fu’s outstretched hand: first Adrien, then Marinette.

“Thank you two. I knew from the very first moments I met you, you had the makings of great heroes. And you never stopped reaffirming that belief.” He turned towards Gabriel, who was intently leaning over Nathalie. She seemed to be slowly coming to, because she scrunched up her face and her eyelids flickered. His eyes met Fu’s momentarily.

“I don’t have it. I don’t know where hers is,” he lied.

“That’s not what I’m asking for.”

Marinette wiped her eyes and looked at them, her sadness replaced with a flash of horrifying insight that she had been _right,_ had known it all along…Adrien hadn’t yet caught on to what Fu was doing, or why. She moved closer to him and grasped his arm, readying herself for whatever was about to happen.

Gabriel’s lips were tighter than ever and his eyes flashed from place to place like a cornered animal. The outstretched hand, his son, Marinette (Marinette who was ladybug, he thought), Nathalie, who had opened her eyes and was blinking up at the ceiling to clear the fog.

“You can do it, Mr. Agreste. Do it for the woman you love.” Master Fu’s eyes crinkled. His voice sounded far away in Gabriel’s ears. Everyone was looking at him, including his son, who had turned his head to his father in wonderment because that was where everyone else was looking. Gabriel looked at his wallet, open on the floor in front of him, with his wife’s creased and worn photograph staring up at him as well. His eyes slid to Nathalie, who was already beginning to silently assess the situation and realize what was going on.

He bowed his head and his fingers felt stiff as he made a conscious choice, loosening the red-striped cloth at his neck…and removed the purple jewel. The four papery wings fluttered as he placed it in the guardian’s heavily lined palm, and the man smiled up at him.

“Thank you. You have done the right thing.” He turned to open up the gramophone and place all three miraculouses in their corresponding places. Marinette was nodding, but her face was tight in contained, silent anger.

Adrien had never seen the butterfly miraculous, but he knew instinctively that was what it was the moment he laid eyes on it. A feeling like a sucker punch to the gut forced all the air out of his lungs, and Marinette squeezed his arm tighter. Gabriel’s head remained bowed and his eyes closed.

“ _Father?!_ You…you’re…” He started shaking his head and took a step back. “I can’t believe this…all this time…I thought we were getting closer again…but you knew my secret identity, and _you didn’t tell me yours_!”

“Adrien, I can explain—” Gabriel started quietly.

Adrien yanked his arm from Marinette’s grasp and covered his ears, his face screwed up in pain. “Stop it. _Stop it, STOP IT!”_ The anguish in his voice was unbearable for everyone listening. “ _I can’t take it anymore! Just when I thought things were getting better…they got so much worse!”_ He ran from the room, choking down his tears.

Marinette made quick to follow him, turning back to the room’s remaining three occupants. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything that could get him hurt,” she said, shooting one last glare at Gabriel before running after her friend.

The silence that remained was deadly.

* * *

_Everything comes at a price._

_How can two people hold one heart?_

_Three. Three people._

_Emilie. Adrien. Nathalie._

The ringing in his ears was increasing and drowning things out; the sensation of a ship tossed in a storm was back. But it was somehow…less. Maybe because he was no longer wearing the miraculous. At least this time he was aware of where his consciousness had gone.

The white butterflies breathed on him with sickly sweet flutterings, beating the backs of his eyelids.

_“Gabriel? Gabriel!”_

Somebody was calling him. Shaking him. The butterflies dissolved, and he realized Nathalie was sitting up and shaking his shoulder. 

“Thank god,” she said, breathlessly, and turned to Master Fu. “Do you see what I mean? Do you think the miraculous could be doing it?”

The master sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them, looking solemn.

“From what you have told me, are correct in assuming, from your own experience—and I cannot imagine how dreadful of one it must have been—that miraculouses affect their wearers. This can be particularly heightened in miraculouses that deal with the human psyche,” he said. Gabriel blinked rapidly to clear away the last of the butterflies in his head. He noticed absentmindedly that her hand still rested on his shoulder.

“The nature of the butterfly means that when creating things that are less-than-good, the miraculous’s tendency to resist evil usage could backfire in this way, yes…” He mused.

Nathalie swallowed. “I can’t watch someone go through what I went through…what _she_ went through…”

Master Fu hummed and stood to return to his wooden bowl and wiped it clean, starting again a new mixture of the partial cure.

“Unfortunately, I only know the recipe for physical ailments caused by a miraculous. Not mental.”

Gabriel hadn’t the energy to speak. So many things had just happened, and he desperately needed time to think. One fact stood out at the forefront of his mind: he was sitting in the guardian’s living space, the miraculous box was a few meters away from him, and Ladybug and Chat Noir no longer had their powers. If he wanted to get his wish, he had nearly all the information he needed to do it.

But he was no longer sure what he wanted. It was all so tiring.

Nathalie was watching him. She had thought she was dreaming when she had woken up in a place she didn’t recognize, a bad taste in her mouth and her body incredibly stiff. The feeling increased when she watched Gabriel hand over his most fiercely protected possession without so much as a backwards glance. It _just_ didn’t seem right. But she had seen the jewel trade hands with her own two eyes.

The master hummed to himself and walked back over to them, bowl in hand, and scooped some of the contents into a Ziploc bag. He held it out to Gabriel, whose hand rose stiffly to meet it. Even kneeling, he was as tall as the small Chinese man. “Remember, only a little bit should do it.”

“Thank you.” He stood, knees aching from resting his weight on them for so long and helped Nathalie to her feet. She swayed slightly, and he put an arm around her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” was her automatic response, but she didn’t push it away. The two of them left and the door swung shut.

Wayzz swooped around to Fu’s side and they looked at each other.

“I felt the darkness of his aura the moment he entered the room, Master. And it hasn’t left.” The man scratched his chin, looking at the door the pair had just exited.

“He has some things he needs to work out. His pain has become twisted to a point where it manipulates everyone around him, including himself. But I hope given time and no miraculous access…” he trailed off. “We will just have to be ready.” The green kwami nodded wisely, and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm so I'm not actually sure I did The Reveal(s) justice but I tried to put in the less cliche things I'd like to see... plus Flustered Adrien is just so cute. Their relationship is so cute. THEY are so cute. 
> 
> Git ready for the Final Countdown!!! Also I'm sorry that my chapter titles are ehhh
> 
> Disclaimer. Tumblr. I'm honestly tired of typing these but I want to feel like A Writer. And not get sued.


	9. Everyday Superheroes

Nathalie had some experience in recovering from concussions, but never a magically induced coma. She figured by all standards, she felt pretty good considering Gabriel had told her she had been out for nearly a full twenty-four hours. Her body still ached and she was still bone tired, but this was sunshine and rainbows considering what she had felt like before. She wished they would get home faster so she could get the taste of whatever Fu had given her out of her mouth with a burning hot mug of coffee.

Gabriel snuck a glance over at her in the passenger seat of the car as he drove home. Her eyes were closed. Her hair was loose, falling in waves around her shoulders, the red streak pluming from her temple. He was surprised to find that without foundation he could see that a spray of tiny freckles ran across her nose and cheeks. He hadn’t gotten the opportunity to look closely at her face in the light. As if sensing him watching her, she opened her eyes and he quickly averted his.

He handed her a water bottle from the cupholder. “Drink this. I can’t have you collapsing from dehydration,” he said when she raised an eyebrow. She shrugged and unscrewed the cap.

Nathalie wasn’t talkative on the best of days, but even with his horrible perception of emotions without his miraculous he could tell something was bothering her. His mind recalled another near silent car ride they had shared not too long ago.

“Nathalie. Are you happy?”

She quickly swallowed her mouthful of water.

“Of course not.” She no longer cared to filter most of her responses to her boss. If he took it wrong, well, let him. She was tired of putting up with his wagonload of horseshit.

She wasn’t happy. Adrien was terribly upset, Gabriel was a hot mess, _she_ had loads of work to do to catch up with her previous period of lesser productivity. And she didn’t even want to get started on the state of her own heart, which was engaged in a constant war of feelings versus logic and sense.

Gabriel had done inexcusable things, and due to his influence she had found herself in situations she would have never imagined herself in, like being a supervillain and you know, nearly dying. She regularly was slapped in the face by the image of her friend’s body in a casket. Plus, she could have gotten caught. She could have been taken away by the authorities, never to see Adrien again.

But despite everything, she couldn’t vanquish the feelings she had for him. She hated it. They were desperately illogical and had only caused her more pain. She couldn’t let herself be in a relationship with a married madman who had almost gotten her killed. Her body may be healing, but her heart hurt more than ever. So no, she wasn’t happy, and there was no easy way out. Unless…

“What can I do to fix it?” was his response. When had he started caring? And did that negate any of his other actions? _No_ , she decided. _It does not_. She took a long exhale through her nose.

“Go to therapy. The guardian is right, Gabriel; you need _serious_ help.”

He sputtered, but fortunately kept his eyes on the road. “I-I don’t need a therapist. You could help me.”

“No, I can’t. I’m not trained in that sort of thing. Besides, I’m not obligated to save you from this hole you’ve dug yourself into.” Anger flared in his chest at her candor and subsided when he realized she was right. He had hurt her enough. He sighed.

“If it would make you happy, hire me a therapist. I’ll go,” he said, exasperated, when she raised her eyebrows at him again. “But I have a request for you in return.”

“And what would that be.”

“Stay. Use your room at the house for a while. I’d prefer to keep an eye on you as you recover, because I’m beginning to realize you’ll throw every last bit of your energy and strength out the window in the name of duty.” He nearly spat out the last part to hide the fact that he cared.

_Well, that makes two of us,_ she thought.

“So, you’re asking me to move in with you.”

“I’m insisting.”

“No, Gabriel.”

“Why?”

How could she tell him that it wasn’t a good idea to progress in this sort of relationship, because she was in love with him and disgusted with him at the same time, and she would no longer willingly break her own heart for something she was almost sure was one-sided?

“The same reason I will never model for you. It would feel too much like I’m taking Emilie’s place.”

“Nathalie, I don’t understand. It would only be for a little while.” His voice was genuinely baffled, and it was almost cute.

 _Fuuuck_ him.

Then again, perhaps her feelings weren’t as unrequited as she thought…she had a fuzzy memory from the night of the Vodka Incident of a husky voice in her ear: “ _I think I’m in love with you.”_

Oh, to hell with it. Overthinking would only get her so far. Her heart was in her throat. “I can’t be in love with you if you’re still in love with her,” she admitted feebly. Voicing this made pain shoot through her chest and lungs as if she was back under the hold of the peacock miraculous.

She turned away and looked out the window. They were nearly back at the Agreste property. Just a few more minutes and this agonizing ride would be over.

She couldn’t see from her position the shock that crossed his face at this indirect confession, and then the realization, and then the relief that he wasn’t alone.

“I see. We could take care to maintain boundaries, if that would make you feel better.”

Nathalie sighed again. She wasn’t winning. “Fine. But I have another condition for you.”

“We should write a contract.”

“Don’t joke with me.”

“I’m not.”

“Anyways. I want you to promise me you’ve given up being… _him._ Hawk Moth.” He protested, and she continued. “I’m not even asking you to give up your plans to bring Emilie back. We can find another way for her.” Her eyes burned, threatening tears.

“You mean the temple in Tibet.”

“I mean we’ll have to do research. The future is not set in stone, Gabriel. Please.” She turned back to him, no longer caring if she cried.

“You’re asking a lot of me,” he mused.

“And you of me. But you don’t have to do it for me. Do it for Adrien, if anybody.”

He nodded slowly. “I made a promise to her. But I’m starting to see…that maybe this isn’t what she would want. My son will be fifteen in a few short months and can’t help but feel I’ve ruined our relationship forever. Even though I’ve been trying…” he trailed off as they pulled up to the mansion gates, the absence of Adrien in the backseat weighing on both of their minds. “What are you thinking?” She must have been making a face.

“With all due respect, you ruined it a long time ago, sir,” she said icily. He chose to ignore most of that remark, as it would only make him angry again.

“I asked you to stop calling me that when we’re alone…I love it when you say my name; nobody else does.”

“…If you’re trying to flirt with me, you need to stop it right this instant.”

“I’m serious. It’s always ‘Sir,’ or ‘Mr. Agreste,’ or ‘father’…” He went quiet as he parked the car and turned to her.

“Okay. I’ll stop. I’ll try, for my son _and_ for you. But you need to promise me, if something happens…” He leaned towards her slightly and looked her in the eyes for the first time during the entire car ride.

_Not another one. Not another promise._

“…that you’ll take Adrien away from me.”

She would have done it anyways. A lump formed in her throat and she could only nod. His face softened; those blue eyes full of…something. But it wasn’t anything bad. In this moment they were clear, present, and focused on her. “Oh, my Nathalie. I’ve upset you with all of this.”

“I’m…proud of you, sir. You’ve made the…the right choice,” she choked out. His face was right there. Did she dare? 

Luckily, it was he who made the first move, and it was to tenderly press his lips to where an escaped tear was tracing its way down her cheek. Her heart hammered as she leaned over the center console of the car to kiss him for real. Just this once. No alcohol between them. She thought that would be the end of it and went to pull away, but his hand found its way to the back of her head with a muttered “No, don’t,” and their lips met again, a little hungrier. And again. And again. Gabriel hummed as he disentangled his fingers from her hair, and that _something_ was in his eyes again as he opened the door and got out of the car.

As they walked up the front staircase with a new connection that was impossible to undo, Nathalie had the feeling that maintaining professionalism was going to be harder than either of them thought. She looked over at him, but his gaze had already blurred, far off in Tibet.

* * *

Adrien didn’t come home that night. Nathalie watched Gabriel pacing anxiously in front of the windows as the sky grew dark and the lights of the city came out. He dialed his son on his cell phone and brought it to his ear.

_”Hey, this is Adrien’s voicemail. Leave a message!”_ Gabriel hit 'cancel' and groaned in frustration.

“Gabriel, let him be. This is the fourth time you’ve called in an hour. I spoke to Marinette earlier and he’s fine.”

“I just want to talk to my son.”

“And he doesn’t. He’s been on a terrible emotional roller coaster lately. Respect his boundaries and give him time.” Gabriel’s eyes flashed.

“But I can’t just sit here doing nothing! _Argh!”_ He roughly ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up in odd places. Perhaps against her better judgement after the events of earlier, Nathalie stepped forward and put a calming two hands on his arms. He looked at her and the fire died, revealing the hurt and worry behind the anger. “I just feel so… _helpless._ ”

“I understand.” It’s a feeling she knew all too well, from watching his child cry, inconsolable, in her arms after experiencing his father’s wrath.

“Could you call him?”

“I don’t want to bother him.”

“He’ll answer you. Nathalie, please.” She sighed and picked up her phone, a bit worried he wouldn’t want to talk to her either. She walked across the room for a bit of privacy, and when Gabriel followed her, gave him a hard look that sent him wearily back to his position at the window, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Adrien picked up on the third ring. “Nathalie?”

“Adrien. It’s good to hear your voice.” She noticed Gabriel’s head jerk up out of the corner of her eye. Annoyed that he was listening, she pushed open the door to go stand in the foyer.

“I’m not coming home, if that’s what you’re going to ask,” he said, with air of defiance. She scoffed.

“Of course not. In fact, I was going to ask you if you needed anything. Your toothbrush? A change of clothes? Preferred shower items? Perhaps we should send over some food to the Dupain-Cheng’s place as well, to make sure they don’t feel burdened to pay for feeding you…”

“Oh. Nathalie. Nathalie, slow down! It’s fine.” She heard his voice relax and a muffled giggle. Marinette was probably listening too. Her cheeks tingled a little bit as she realized she sounded exactly like a worried mother. 

Gabriel’s head peeked around the door. She sighed, and figured she’d ask just to prove a point. “Would you like to talk to your father?” she ground out between clenched teeth, already knowing his answer and feeling bad that she had to even mention it.

“No.” He paused. “I’m guessing he wants to talk to me,” he said miserably.

Nathalie looked Gabriel straight in the eyes as she responded. “He does, but I’m not letting him until you want to.” Gabriel withdrew his head. _Fucking finally._

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, Nathalie. You’re the best.”

“I’ll be sending a toothbrush and your clothes over with Gorilla shortly. Are you sure there’s nothing else you need?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” She couldn’t keep the tiniest quiver of worry out of her voice.

“Call me if you need anything. Anytime at all, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go. Bye, Adrien.”

“Bye. Love you.”

_Click._

Nathalie pocketed the phone, Adrien’s final phrase echoing in her head.

The door creaked open and Gabriel’s face appeared again. Nathalie had the sneaking suspicion he had been waiting behind it after she had banished him.

“So he talked to you?”

“Yes.”

“How did you do it?”

“Parenting and genuine compassion. You should try it.”

* * *

Gabriel had gone down to visit Emilie twice that day, and here he was back again. He had rushed in as soon as they had returned from the guardian’s flat to deliver her the temporary cure. The pricking of her finger had been a nightmare, but he had managed. He had visited again when the cryogenics specialist came to inspect her casket and ensure it was still functioning properly. But it was only now that he returned for his typical visit, a bouquet of fresh flowers in his hands. Chrysanthemums, this time.

He stood in front of where she lay. The color had come back to her cheeks and fingernails, and she once again looked the picture of health. But part of him felt pinched on the inside. Guilty. He had been trying to bring her back for so long and had failed every time, and now he was even more confused and entangled in problems than he was in the beginning.

Maybe it was a sign that he should have just let her rest when her time ran out. Maybe it would have caused less suffering.

His eyes were dry as he set down the flowers and turned out the lights, but he knew he just wasn’t ready to completely let go.

* * *

Adrien rolled over on Marinette’s chaise lounge—his temporary bed—a blanket covering the lower half of his body. Her room was cozy at night in a way that his wasn’t, with the closeness and the soothing yellow light of the lamp, but he thought perhaps part of it was that she was there too. In his bedroom at home he was usually alone.

“Your parents are seriously amazing,” he said, looking up from his phone and smiling over at where she was at her desk. She didn’t even look up from her sketchbook, smirking.

“Are you saying that because they’ve been trying to feed you pastries all day? But yeah, I know. They are.”

“No…well, not _just_ for that reason. Seriously Marinette, I think I’ve gained ten pounds in an afternoon.”

She laughed and spun in her chair. Adrien recognized her pajama top from the day of their impromptu movie date.

“Marinette? Adrien? I’m coming up!” Sabine’s voice called from the hatch as she pushed it open and climbed to stand in the center of the room. Her chaperone senses were relieved to see them an appropriate distance apart and not…well, she wouldn’t think about that. She was also glad to see her daughter considerably more comfortable around that nice young man.

Her motherly instincts kicked into full gear when she looked at him, the poor child. Marinette had explained some of what had gone on with his father and she and Tom had suggested he stay a night or two without a second thought.

“Adrien, do you have everything you need? I have a duffel your chauffer brought for you.” She placed the bag on the floor, and Adrien came over to inspect the contents. It had his toothbrush, toothpaste, two sets of clean clothes (including socks and underwear, he noted with mild embarrassment), a stick of deodorant, his hairbrush, and his favorite shower supplies. And a note, written in a straight and legible hand, on a yellow sticky stuck to his neatly folded shirt. 

_Adrien,_

_If you decide to stay longer, let me know and I’ll bring your school things over._

_Don’t hesitate to call if you think I’ve forgotten anything._

_Love,_

_Nathalie_

His face lit up at the signature. Sabine smiled. “I assume your father didn’t pack that bag?” 

“Nope; it was Nathalie. I doubt he knows where I keep all of my stuff.” _And I don’t want him to._ The sentiment that had begun on the evening his father had found out his secret identity had been further cemented by the events of the day. But at least Nathalie hadn’t reacted that way when she found out his secret. Even though she was Mayura. She had literally given up that identity for him, and the one time she broke her promise…it had been to save him. Save both of them.

“She seems like a wonderful lady.” Sabine said, as if echoing his inner thoughts. “Well, you already know where the bathroom is. Towels and extra blankets are in the linen closet and Marinette can show you how to work the shower if you decide to use it. Right, my lovely daughter?”

“Uh, um, yes mom!” The thought of Adrien Agreste showering _in her house_ momentarily threw her off guard.

Sabine nodded, satisfied. “Okay, Tom and I are heading to bed. Sleep well!” She pecked her daughter on the brow and leaned over and deposited a kiss on Adrien’s forehead as well before leaving and closing the hatch behind her. 

That woman truly was amazing. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the other mother figure in his life, as well as the one that was no longer in it.

“You alright?” Marinette came over and sat on the chaise lounge with him, leaving a bit of room in between them.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About today? I mean, I totally get it. It’s been a lot to digest. Let me know if you need some space.”

“No, it’s fine. Actually, I’d prefer if you stayed.” He hesitated, then rested his hand on her leg, which once again sent her brain into a minor panic. “One thing in particular is bothering me. Other than that my _father_ is _Hawk Moth,_ but that’s a whole other can of worms…” He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “Wherever my mother is, he knows. He would have to if he was able to give her Fu’s cure. Which means he’s not telling me, but it also means she’s alive and I might see her again…and it also means that the sickness she had, the same as Nathalie’s… _my mother wore the peacock miraculous._ ” His eyebrows drew closer together, and Marinette noticed.

“If he doesn’t tell you everything when you go home, I’ll transform into Ladybug and _make_ him.” Adrien’s sorrowful eyes met hers.

“Thanks for the offer, but I guess we can’t do that anymore.” Her gaze dropped. _Darn it._ He had made her sad.

He grabbed the blanket and wrapped half of it around himself, offering her the rest. She accepted, and they became a blanket cocoon. “You know what’s funny? When Nathalie called earlier, I almost asked her to pack me some camembert. For Plagg; it was all they ate. I miss them.”

“I miss Tikki, too. They love the cookies from the bakery.”

“Oh, that worked out for you then. But even if they’re gone…at least I have you. So I’m not all alone again.” He looked into the beautiful blue of her eyes in the lamplight, imagining them framed with a red spotted mask. So familiar; he knew their every expression.

“Yeah. I guess a lot has changed, hasn’t it…”

The two of them leaned towards each other at the same time, closing the distance, and lips met in a soft kiss. Their fingers twined together and Adrien couldn’t help but smile into it. This was bliss.

He looked at her when they broke apart and sighed happily. “If only I had known how right I was.”

“Hm?”

“About you being my everyday Ladybug. You are her, every day. I just can’t believe it took me this long to notice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short but I hope it's a satisfactory conclusion?? Don't skip the epilogue, though,,,, And once again, there is SO much sequel material, so I'm going to have to get started on that, because we CANNOT leave them here! It will likely be an 'adventure' style thing as they travel to the mountains and slightly less canon as I develop the characters. And I'm also planning a series of one-shots in this same AU. 
> 
> Once again THANK YOU THANK YOU for reading. Let me know via the tumblrs or this page or something what you'd like to see in the sequel, if you have strong preferences! May your days be filled with sunshine and Miraculous and all good things!


	10. Epilogue

Inside the miracle box, Plagg was being a little bitch.

“ _Tikki_ , I miss camembert _soo_ much!”

The red kwami put their hands on their hips. “Plagg, you _pig_. It’s only been two days. I can’t believe you ate that entire wheel already!”

“Hey, I was hungry! And I’m not used to rationing…Adrien was always so generous and I guess I really got used to it.”

Tikki rolled their eyes. “I miss my human, but it’s because of who she was, not just because she _fed_ me. We don’t even need to _eat_ inside the miracle box. I seriously don’t get…”

She was interrupted by Wayzz spiraling down the gramophone bell.

“Plagg, Tikki, come quick! You need to see this.” They stopped their arguing and looked at him in surprise. Wayzz almost never spoke with such urgency. The three kwamis flew out of the box to find Master Fu eye level with an object on the dresser.

It was Nooroo’s jewel.

“We thought it was broken, and that’s why they weren’t coming out,” Wayzz said breathlessly. “Master was attempting to find out what was wrong when he realized this:” The turtle hovered close to the brooch and scraped the surface with his hand. The purple color came off.

Plagg and Tikki gasped in unison.

“It’s _salt dough,”_ Master Fu explained with narrowed eyes. “An incredibly clever forgery. Even the weight is correct.”

“B-b-but that means…” Plagg started.

“…Nooroo is still under Hawk Moth's control! Oh, this is _dreadful!”_ Tikki finished, hands flying to their mouth. The guardian nodded.

“So far, neither Wayzz nor myself have sensed its activation. But we decided to warn you two, to let you know to be ready. I will warn Ladybug and Chat Noir as well, and we can plan from there.” He looked sideways at his own kwami. “In the meantime, I think I need to change my address.”

He looked pensively out the window at the Paris skyline, one thought playing on repeat in his troubled mind: _A miraculous used for evil purposes always has consequences, especially on the wearer._

It wasn’t over yet.


End file.
